Hot Chocolate
by jellyjay
Summary: That first year at the Hawkeye estate, Riza Hawkeye didn't like her father's apprentice very much and all Roy Mustang wanted to do was get to know his Sensei's daughter. Premanga!Royai Drabble Series.
1. Introductions

**Because now that the manga's finished and we didn't get enough the closure that we wanted, pre-manga!Royai needed to be written.**

**And so begins another drabble series. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Hot Chocolate**

**I**

Berthold Hawkeye's home, Roy decided, was a lot scarier than he expected. Perhaps he was just nervous, but the unkempt front gate, the cracked footpath and looming shadows caused by the early morning sun made it look almost terrifying.

Rolling his shoulders and cricking his neck, he sighed. "Why are all the best alchemists so... gloomy?" he wondered aloud, pushing open the gate with an eerie creak. He looked up at the dark windows and frowned.

There was someone watching him from up there. He had heard Master Hawkeye had a daughter – perhaps that was her? He couldn't see her very well, but there was a shock of bright, blonde hair staring down at him from the upstairs window.

He squared his shoulders. At least he would have the company of someone roughly his own age, right? He sighed once again and raised a hand.

_Knock, knock_.

* * *

Here was another one. Another waste of time and effort. Another arrogant bastard who thought he could make the cut. Riza glared down at him from the upstairs window as he raised his fist to knock. Maybe if she stood here long enough and didn't answer, he would go away and they wouldn't have to bother.

"Riza!"

Drat. "Yes, Father," she called irritably, "I'm getting it." Scowling, she dragged herself to her feet and staggered slowly to the stairs, taking great care to take her time. Maybe if she walked slow enough, the newcomer would go away, she thought, choosing to remain optimistic.

He knocked again. Alas. No such luck. Grumbling to herself as she reached the door, she heaved a heavy sigh and pulled it open and found herself looking up into the eyes of a handsome faced, dark haired boy only a couple of years older than herself. She surveyed him once, noting his scruffy appearance, untucked shirt and slightly wrinkled vest and did the calculations in her head. _One week_, she thought. _At the most. Then he'll be gone too._

"May I help you?" she questioned, mock-politely, not bothering to take the scowl from her face.

The boy blinked. "Er..." he began. "Hi. My name's Roy Mustang," he said, offering her his hand and a nervous smile. "I'm here to see Mr. Hawkeye – is he around?"

Riza stared at him. "Father's very strict, Mr. Mustang," she said dryly. "He doesn't take kindly to idiots."

His hand was still offered. At this point in time, Mustang must have realised that she wasn't going to take it, because he raised it awkwardly and scratched at the back of his head. His smile fell. "So... you're his daughter?" he asked, trying to be friendly. "What's your name?"

"Riza," deadpanned Riza. She stepped back and allowed him to enter the house. "Father's upstairs in the room at the end of the hallway, Mr. Mustang."

"Oh," said Mustang, "Please – just call me Roy –"

"Father doesn't like to be kept waiting either, Mr. Mustang," interrupted Riza, her eyes flashing.

Mustang winced. "A-All right, sorry," he stammered, "Nice meeting you, Riza." And with that, he inched past her and gave her an uneasy glance and a queasy "please-don't-hurt-me" smile, and hurried upstairs like a frightened puppy.

Riza smirked. _One week_. He would be gone by then.


	2. The Sleeping Problem

**Hot Chocolate**

**II**

To Riza's dismay, one week came and went and Roy Mustang was _still_ _here_.

To be totally honest, there was nothing wrong with him. He was, in fact, quite nice to her; offering to help her with her chores or with her own study when he wasn't studying with her father, giving her friendly greetings and attempting to start amiable conversation – but no. Riza did not like him – even if the only reason she could provide was because after her carefully calculated estimation of one week, _he was still here_.

Two nights after his supposed deadline was reached, Riza lay awake in bed, staring at the blue tinged ceiling in irritation. Why _was _he still here? She couldn't fathom it – he didn't look like the brighter kind of apprentice Father favoured. He hardly looked like he could handle the alchemy at all. As a matter of fact, he looked like one of those cocky, not-so-clever, popular jocks at the local school.

And to make matters worse, _why was she still thinking about it and not sleeping?_ Even at twelve years old, Riza had a very strict sleeping pattern, and a sleep deprived Riza very much meant hell for any living creature that crossed paths with her in the morning.

As the grandfather clock downstairs tolled one in deep, ringing gongs, Riza snarled. Bullying herself into going to sleep, she realised, was _not _going to work.

_I might as well make myself useful._

* * *

This was how Roy Mustang found her: dressed in her flannel blue pyjamas with a saucepan in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other, with her eyes glaring viciously at a box of hot chocolate on a shelf in the pantry that she realised she couldn't quite reach with such a small stature.

Roy's initial instinct was to reach over her shoulder and take it down for her, but she was armed, grumpy, and she didn't like him very much as it was. He cleared his throat cautiously. "Er. Riza? Do you want me to get that for you?"

He was almost glad that she didn't look at him. She could have killed something with a glare as intense as that.

"Yes please," she grumbled through gritted teeth.

Roy, to be honest, was half expecting her to turn around and snarl at him, so he was pleasantly surprised (not to mention, greatly relieved) when she allowed him to take the box down for her. Surveying her quickly as he handed her the box, he asked, "What are you doing up so late?"

Riza, still not looking at him, answered, "Making breakfast."

Roy stared. "It's one thirty in the morning," he stated plainly.

"That's right," said Riza.

Her blatant disregard for the time was unnerving. As was the awkward pause that ensued after she filled the saucepan with water and banged it on the stove. Then she spoke.

"You should go to bed, Mr. Mustang," she told him coolly. "You'll need your sleep."

Roy frowned at her and scratched at his forehead. "What about you? Don't you need your sleep too?"

"No," she lied. "Now go to bed."

"But – "

She turned her head, and he found the terrifying glare once fixated on the box of hot chocolate, now burning holes into his head. "Bed," she snarled.

Roy squeaked. "I'm sorry! I'm going!"

* * *

The next morning, Roy brought his morning mug of hot chocolate to his lips and gagged. "_Riza_," he groaned, wiping the cold liquid from his lips. "_Why _do you hate me so much?"


	3. The Mug

**Hot Chocolate**

**III**

A week and a half into his stay with the Hawkeyes, Roy began to wonder if learning one of the most powerful forms of alchemy was worth it. On the one hand, Hawkeye-Sensei had a horrible habit of working in his dark, secluded study for hours and hours with no breaks (meaning, of course, that Roy was required to adapt to these conditions in order to remain his apprentice) and of working into unholy hours of the night (meaning also that Roy was forced to accept the fact that he would never get a regular night's sleep ever again).

On the other hand, Hawkeye-Sensei's twelve year old daughter was a downright bully to him even when he put such an incredible amount of effort into being friendly to her. In the quiet hours of the morning when he revelled in the light of day and made the most of his time _outside _of dark, secluded basement that was his Sensei's study, he watched her cook and clean and study her own work with her only companion being the family cat.

He had offered to help her with everything repeatedly. He had offered to take care of her chores while she took a day off multiple times. He had offered her greetings, and friendly conversation and company, and _she still hated him_ and she gave him constant proof of this by firing plastic projectiles at his head whenever she had the chance.

(Her aim was _brilliant_).

For a twelve year old, that girl was _frightening_ and although he was a good three years older than she was and a decent head and shoulders taller, he had absolutely no problem admitting that she was a scary, scary child when she wanted to be.

All he wanted to do was to get to know her and she _hated _his guts.

It wasn't as if he needed proof of this fact, but one very late night, proof was exactly what he got.

Feeling restless, Roy had reached into one of the cupboards absent-mindedly, fishing out the first mug he could reach, and had made himself a steaming mug of hot chocolate before dropping himself onto one of the kitchen stools. He took care to enjoy his moment of respite, and halfway through his mug, a pair of blue slippered feet appeared at the top of the staircase and made their way downstairs.

Riza was up late again. According to Hawkeye-Sensei, his daughter's sleeping patterns had been different lately and that it was best not to irritate her in anyway. Roy lifted the mug to his lips and stared into its contents in an attempt to avoid having her terrifying glare directed at him.

_Wrong move, Mustang._

Riza stared at him from the staircase. "That's my mug," she said shortly.

Roy winced. _Oh, God, no. _"Riza?" he squeaked. "Please don't hurt me – I just wanted something warm before bed, okay?"

Riza's eyes narrowed. "That's my mug," she said again. "It has my name on the handle."

In an attempt to save his dignity and remind her that he _was _older than her, he steeled himself for the array of insults that would follow and forced himself to look her in the eye. "Look, I don't mean any harm, okay?" he said quickly, "I've just been trying to be friendly – and I'm sorry I accidentally took your mug – but _why_ do you have to be so mean to me?"

She glared – good Lord, how she _glared_ – at him. "I'll make this quite clear to you, Mr. Mustang," she said coldly. "You're arrogant, and cocky and pretty much your existence is enough annoy me, and the _second_ you slip up, you're out of here – and if that's not clear enough to you, then let me put into words you'll understand: _I don't like you_. Get it? Now clean out my mug _right now_ before I _make_ you."

Roy gaped at her, mouth open like a dead fish. "B-but – Riza - !"

But she had already turned on her heel and stormed back up the stairs, muttering darkly to herself.

"Yeah?" he called after her in one last attempt to save what was left of his dignity, "Well – I don't like you either! So there!"


	4. The Cat

**Hot Chocolate**

**IV**

It was a lie. She was mean to him, sure, and she was a bully, and she liked to fire things into the back of his head, but she was twelve and when she wasn't irritated – take for instance, that one day he'd found her relaxing under the shade of the beech tree in the back yard looking wholly at peace with herself – she was quite pretty.

Of _course_ Roy Mustang liked her. She'd be quite the friend if only she didn't hate him so much. And he really wished she'd _stop_ hating him; not just because it was painful for him and she was so Goddamned _scary_ but because it was bad enough she had no one else to talk to and because it seemed like she hated the mundane of her life enough.

So, yes: it was a lie, what he had said last night.

Roy mulled it over during breakfast, swilling the hot chocolate in what he made sure was _not _Riza's mug. And in that moment of thought, he came to a conclusion.

He would _make _her stop hating from him. It would take a little while, yes. But he _would _do it.

The best place to start, he decided that morning, would be to make her smile.

* * *

The cat, Flamel, was far too crafty to be considered a normal cat.

If anything, Roy thought, it was a lot like Riza – only more docile and less likely to hurt him. He realised much too late that it probably bore likenesses to his Sensei's daughter because it spent so much time with her. It also had messed up sleeping habits, but at least Flamel didn't snap at him whenever they ran into each other on very late nights.

After finishing with Hawkeye-Sensei at eleven o'clock PM the day Roy made his decision to make Riza stop hating from him, Flamel sat at the top of the staircase and watched him curiously as he made his ascent. The cat had never bothered with him before, to be totally honest, but tonight, it seemed much friendlier than usual.

It mewed at him and snaked between his legs as he stepped onto the landing.

Roy stared. "What do you want?" he asked it, crouching to stroke its fuzzy brown fur. "You aren't usually so nice to me."

The cat purred lightly and turned its lamp-like green eyes to him inquiringly – as if it knew something. As if...

"Hey, Flamel," he said to it suddenly. "You can help me, can't you? That's why you're so friendly tonight, right? You want to help me make Riza stop hating me?"

The cat mewed, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Roy's conscience told him that he was decidedly crazy – he was, after all, talking to a cat as if it understood him, but at the same time – and he knew this made him even crazier – Roy decided to believe that Flamel was a smarter cat than it let on.

He sighed. "C'mon," he whispered, hoisting it up around the middle and standing up again. "Riza'll probably yell at me for contaminating you or something."

Quietly, he padded towards Riza's bedroom door and reached for the knob with his free hand. He hesitated, but a second's thought later (_it's her cat – she will make life hell if I don't return it) _he inched it open, ushered the cat into her room with his foot, and shut it again, wincing at the soft _click_ that sounded as the door handle moved back into place.

* * *

The next morning, he found Riza glaring at him from the kitchen with Flamel in her arms. "The cat doesn't sleep in my room, Mr. Mustang," she said coolly. "He left fur in my closet."

His hot chocolate was cold again but he watched her over the top of the mug, and he blinked. The corners of her lips twitched that one little bit as she turned away from him, and by the time he did a double take it was gone.

He smirked. Perhaps the cat _would_ be the key.

Then again, perhaps Flamel wanted to screw him over as well.


	5. The Dilemma

**Hot Chocolate**

**V**

Riza's sleeping patterns had been destroyed.

Gone were the nights when she could lie in bed and fall asleep at nine thirty on the dot and wake the next day at six AM sharp. Gone were the nights she could sleep through in peace. Gone were the mornings she could wake _without _feeling irritated.

And although she knew he had nothing to do with it, somewhere in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but blame Roy Mustang.

* * *

Two weeks into Mustang's stay, Riza lay in bed, staring at the blue tinged ceiling once again feeling wide awake while the grandfather clock downstairs tolled midnight when the proof came of her deteriorating sanity.

_You like him_.

Riza sat bolt upright in bed and glanced around the room through narrowed eyes for no reason. There was a voice in her head, and it was talking to her in such a condescending tone that she found herself scowling at the accusation. It came as a shock when she answered it out loud.

"No. I don't," she snarled.

The voice chuckled. _You're fighting a losing battle, dear. You actually like him_.

"No. I don't," she said again viciously. "Roy Mustang is an arrogant bastard and I will eat bricks before I decide I _like_ him."

The voice laughed at her. _Funny_, it said amusedly. _I don't recall saying anything about Roy Mustang_.

Riza stared. And she stared, and stared at the doorknob of her closet, half in shock, half in irritation that a little voice in her head had outsmarted her, before kneading her forehead roughly with her knuckles.

"Shut up," she snapped, "Get out of my head."

The voice laughed again. _Bested by a voice in your head. You really are going nuts, _it said. _That's why you're so mean to him, you know. You _like _him_.

"Shut up!" snarled Riza.

There was a yelp from outside her door. "Holy – Riza! Come on – I didn't even do anything this time!"

Feeling particularly nasty, Riza jumped out of bed and stomped towards her bedroom door. Frustrated, she wrenched it open to find an almost cowering Roy Mustang pressed against the opposite wall. "What do you want?" she snapped at him.

"Nothing!" protested Roy. "I was just on my way to bed, okay?"

Fuming, she glared at him and lifted a hand to point at his room. "Then stop walking so loudly and get there already! Some of us are trying to sleep over here!" And she slammed the door in his face before stomping back to bed and throwing the covers over her head.

The little voice laughed again. _Deny it all you want – you know the truth._

"The truth," she muttered into her pillow, "is that Roy Mustang is a waste of space and isn't worth the time and effort."

The voice sniggered. _You keep telling yourself that, Riza, dear._


	6. Breakfast at Mustang's

**Hot Chocolate**

**VI**

Roy woke at an unholy hour the next day and found a brown ball of fuzz curled up and purring on his chest. Sleepily, it turned its head and blinked at him.

Roy blinked back. Then he yelped. "What the - ?" he gasped. "_Flamel_?" Struggling against the sheets and the light weight of Flamel's furry body, he forced himself upright, accidentally throwing the yowling cat from his chest and off the bed. "How did you get in here?" he demanded, drawing the sheets around his shoulders.

The cat tilted its head at him curiously, watching him through bright green eyes. _Meow_.

Scratching his head, Roy leant over the edge of the bed and stared at it. "What do you want?"

It meowed at him again.

_Sanity gone_. "You want me to make breakfast?"

Flamel blinked. _Meow_.

"You want me to make breakfast for _Riza_?"

Call him crazy, but Roy could have sworn it nodded at him. There was a voice in his head, loud and clear, telling him that he had gone completely insane – that the irregular sleeping habits, and the constant bullying he endured from Riza and the complicated arrays had finally gone to his head – because, no matter how he would describe it to anyone later on, he was still talking to a cat. And he was _still _acting like it understood him.

Sighing, he staggered out of bed and stretched his arms over his head. "Let's go," he muttered, beckoning the cat to follow him. "This had better work, Flamel."

* * *

This was how Riza Hawkeye found him: tousle haired and sleepy eyed with a wooden spoon in one hand stirring the contents of heating saucepan and bringing a mug to his lips with the other. Her own mug stood steaming on the counter next to a bowl of porridge and a piece of toast. Flamel, curled on one of the kitchen stools, turned its head towards her and blinked at her blearily.

Riza stood half way down the staircase feeling at loss for words. The awkward half minute of silence went unnoticed by Mustang, before the presence of her brain made itself apparent to her.

"What are you doing?" she questioned.

Mustang turned to her and offered her a small, sleepy nod. "Making breakfast," he yawned. "Yours is on the counter."

She stared at him. "I noticed," she stated plainly.

Another half minute of silence ensued, broken only by the soft purring that emanated from Flamel and the soft _blub-blub _of the porridge on the stove. Irritating as it was that he had stolen her job, disbelief was the only emotion she could bring herself to feel at this point in time.

"_Why_?" she asked him finally, folding her arms across her chest and narrowing her eyes at him.

"Hm?" Mustang downed that last of his hot chocolate and turned towards her nervously. "Please don't yell at me or anything, okay? I just wanted to give you a morning off."

Riza blinked at him. It seemed that at this hour, she didn't quite have it in her to be mean to him. "_Why_?" she asked again.

Flamel gave a sleepy meow and Roy gave her an anxious shrug. "Flamel told me to do it."

There was a pause, in which she stared at him and he stared at her and Flamel looked groggily from one to the other before Riza padded downstairs and snatched her mug vehemently from the counter.

"Thanks."

It was quiet and decidedly shy sounding, but Roy choked on his toast and pounded on his chest in an attempt to dislodge the offending hazard, only by the time he had the energy to look up again, she was gone. He turned to the cat. "You," coughed. "I – I really owe you one."


	7. A Question

**Hot Chocolate**

**VII**

Three weeks into Mustang's stay, Riza had stopped expecting herself to fall asleep at her usual time. Every night, she would wash up at nine o'clock, change into her pyjamas and jump into bed, pulling the covers up to her chest and stare at the ceiling for hours before deciding that it was just not going to work. She had resigned herself to taking a book to bed and reading it until she fell into an unrestful sleep.

Occasionally, when she was up late enough to hear the clock strike one, she gave up completely and climbed short-tempered out of bed, heading for the kitchen with the intention of making herself some hot chocolate with the assumption that the warmth of the liquid would act as a sleep inducer.

On one such night, she found that someone had beaten her to it.

* * *

Roy's success with breakfast had inspired him.

A few nights later, at around one o'clock in the morning, he found himself sitting at the counter with hands wrapped around a mug to keep them warm and he was struck with an idea.

Sensei had told him Riza's sleeping habits had been turned on their heads, had he not? Perhaps she was still awake tonight.

* * *

Roy Mustang was standing at the kitchen counter by the time she was halfway down the stairs. Giving her a sleepy smile, he raised her mug and offered it to her.

"Hot chocolate?"

Riza stared at him. With all the stunts he'd been pulling (first breakfast and now _this_), staring had become a habit.

He put it on the counter and hopped back onto his seat. "I found your stash of marshmallows, by the way," he said mildly. "Don't let them go to waste." And then he turned away and took a long draught from his own mug.

Stunned, Riza stepped onto the landing and approached the counter cautiously. Taking her mug, she looked down at the contents and then to Mustang and then back again. "How?" she asked, frowning.

Mustang shrugged and smiled at her sheepishly. "They were in the coffee tin," he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "You don't drink coffee and your dad only ever drinks tea – I was just curious."

Riza didn't answer and brought the mug to her lips, savouring the warmth as it slipped down her throat. After a moment's pause, she looked at him – and for the first time, it was not staring at him because of something he'd done, or a suspicious scrutinizing, or that terrifying, _terrifying _glare she saved for people she didn't like. And then, quite against her will, she pulled at the stool next to him and took a seat, turning her eyes back to the contents of her mug.

She felt Mustang's gaze searching her for a moment as she took a tentative sip. Then he spoke. "How is it?" he asked her kindly.

Riza shrugged. "Not half bad," she murmured.

Another pause ensued. It was comfortable, if Riza were totally honest, and not awkward or hostile as it had been. She wasn't sure if she liked it, but a second later, Mustang turned back to her.

"How come you never smile, Riza?" he asked her.

Riza blinked. She had been expecting him to question her about being such a bully or why she hadn't started yelling at him yet (in which case, she wouldn't have an answer anyway because at this point, she didn't know either). This was the last thing she had been expecting. She didn't look at him as she answered. "There's not very much around here to smile about, Mr. Mustang," she said quietly. And downing the last of her hot chocolate, she jumped from the stool and turned to go back upstairs before he had time to question her about anything else.

By the time she got back into bed, the little voice had returned. It was rather kind sounding this time around.

_Riza, honey, you've got it so bad. _


	8. Company

**Hot Chocolate**

**VIII**

By now, Roy had noticed a pattern: Riza was much less threatening when in a state of shock. The question _now_ was how many more stunts like this could he pull before it stopped being surprising to her?

One day, in a rare moment of generosity in which his Sensei had given him the afternoon off, he watched her read under the beech tree with the brown ball of fuzz that was Flamel curled up on her lap from the hall window. The slingshot she carried with her was in the pocket the jacket hanging off a tree branch, and Roy wondered for a moment whether it was safe to approach her and whether he could get down there before she had time to mark her page, throw Flamel off her lap and grab her slingshot.

Perhaps he would get lucky – seeing as her dad was feeling particularly generous, maybe, by some miracle, she was feeling particularly kind, and she wouldn't feel the need to fire something at him if he came within her range.

Should he risk it? He weighed the odds in his head. His hot chocolate had actually been hot these past few days. Was it worth it?

From Riza's lap, Flamel's tail twitched; the cat turned its head just so and Roy found himself staring into lamp-like eyes and making a decision.

He shrugged on his coat.

* * *

His first stop was the kitchen. Fishing out Riza's distinctive purple mug, he put the water on to boil and reached for the coffee tin full of marshmallows and the box of hot chocolate in the pantry.

If he was going to walk straight into her firing range, he would at least provide himself with something she liked enough to consider not attacking him.

* * *

"Riza?"

Her eyes snapped up and narrowed as Roy made his way towards her. Placing her book facedown on the grass and lifting Flamel off her lap, she shot him her trademark glare and reached for the slingshot in her jacket.

Mustang held up a hand. "Wait, wait, wait!" he called. "Don't shoot! I just figured you'd maybe want some company..."

"I don't need or want company, Mr. Mustang," she snapped.

_Initiating plan B now_. Roy lifted her mug. "At least let me bring you your hot chocolate?"

Riza paused.

Somehow, Roy felt that, already, his random acts of kindness and hot chocolate were getting old. _At least she's not glaring_, he reminded himself, and he slowed his pace and paused a little way away from her. "You're... you're not going to attack me are you?"

She looked as if she was re-evaluating her options. Finally, clicking her tongue, she replied: "Not while you have my mug, Mr. Mustang."

Roy gave a visible sigh of relief and stepped forward to hand her the mug. "May I sit?"

He expected her to say no and then tell him to get lost with a customary insult, but to his great surprise and even greater relief, she surveyed him once and gave a stiff nod. All the while, her eyes remained narrowed, but an excuse not to look at her cool expression came in the form of Flamel. The cat hopped into his lap and curled its tail around itself but it looked up at Riza expectantly.

Riza tore her eyes from him and fixed them on Flamel, allowing her expression to soften just a little.

Roy watched her curiously as she took a sip from the mug and picked up her book again to continue where she left off.

Flamel looked up at him and mewed.

_You're getting there, Mustang_, it seemed to say. _You're getting there._


	9. The Smile

**Hot Chocolate**

**IX**

Feeling particularly restless and sort of lucky at one thirty in the morning, Roy sat at the kitchen counter with two mugs in his hands. His own was half empty. The other, Riza's, still sat steaming, warming his palm as he stared into it and watched lumps of unmelted marshmallow swirl in the murky depths.

He would have felt less stupid if he knew Riza was still awake. For all he knew, she'd fallen asleep already. Perhaps, he considered much too late, he shouldn't have worked under the assumption that Riza was still up. What was he thinking? Making two mugs of hot chocolate with no substantial proof that Riza would still be awake?

Roy grumbled under his breath and rubbed at the back of his neck. "This was a stu– "

"What are you still doing up?"

He looked up and blinked. The first thing he noticed was that Riza _wasn't _glaring at him. In fact, she was looking at him rather curiously. The second thing he noticed was the fact that she hadn't snapped at him either. Her tone was inquiring – perhaps not the politest form of inquiring, but it was inquiring rather than interrogatory nonetheless.

Then he realised that the fact she had come downstairs automatically made him feel less stupid. He held up her mug. "I figured you'd still be awake," he told her.

Stepping slowly down the last few steps of the staircase, Riza tilted her head to the side at him before taking her mug. She looked down at it for a second before turning her gaze back to him. "Why?" she asked him. "Why would you go through this much trouble to be nice?"

Roy shrugged. "To be totally honest, Riza," he began, "You seem to really hate the fact that you're always so lonely and that you don't have many people to talk to and that you have to do all the chores with no one to help you out – I just don't want to add to that list."

Riza turned back to her mug and pulled up a seat next to him. "I don't hate you," she mumbled.

Roy blinked. "You don't?"

She shook her head and took another sip. "It's just... complicated... Mr. Mustang," she said slowly, refusing to look at him.

"You don't have to say if you don't want to," said Roy kindly. "And you don't have to call me 'Mr. Mustang'."

There was a pause. And then - "What do you want from me, Mr. Mustang?" she asked quietly. "You're a lot nicer than the others – what's the catch?"

Frowning, Roy turned to her. "There's no catch," he answered. "Although..." he paused, pursing his lips and lifting a hand to his chin in thought. "If it's not too much to ask, I'd like for you to let me be your friend – if that's alright, of course."

Riza blinked. "That's it?"

"Well, actually," said Roy matter-of-factly with a small grin, "There is just one other thing." He cocked his head at her and caught her downcast eyes. "I've never seen you smile, either. You're always glaring at me or something – I don't think I've ever even seen your teeth."

There was a soft snort, and Roy had to mentally slap himself to remind himself that he was still awake because there was something surreal about what he saw before him: For the first time since he'd met her, Riza Hawkeye had a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Tiny as it was, it was still a smile, and all of a sudden, Riza actually looked her age.

"See?" he said softly. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Now what are the chances I get to be your friend too?"

Finally, she looked up. The ghost of the smile was still there when she gave him a nonchalant shrug. "If that's what you really want," she mumbled.

"And will you stop calling me 'Mr. Mustang' too?"

Riza hopped off her chair, downed the last of her hot chocolate and reached for his mug. In the silence that permeated the extremes of the morning while she washed and dried their mugs, she gave him an answer. "Don't push it."

Roy smirked. She had a pretty smile.


	10. The Second Mission

**notHot Chocolate**

**X**

Riza became significantly less of a bully after that one conversation, Roy noted. Only, he wasn't satisfied. Riza was nicer to him, yes. She didn't fire things into his head anymore, yes. Hell, even his morning mug of hot chocolate was all around better - but it wasn't enough, Roy thought, and a month and a half into his stay, he realised that it was because _she _wasn't happy.

At least, he didn't think she was.

Even with him offering his company and conversation, with no one else around but Flamel, Riza Hawkeye was _still _left to her own devices for the majority of the day. She still had no one else to talk to and she still had to do all her chores by herself. Even if she did consider him a friend now, Roy couldn't help but feel that unless he could do something more for her, he wasn't being a very good one.

One day, as he helped her dry the dishes after breakfast, he decided on a new project.

Making her smile had been hard enough. He wondered how much more work he'd have to put in to make her _laugh_.

* * *

At this point in time, even reading herself to sleep was becoming difficult. Riza scowled and snapped the book shut. She didn't know how much longer she could keep up with sleeping for only six hours a night. Absently, she sighed and pushed herself out of bed as Flamel slipped into her room from the window above her bookshelf.

"Hello Flamel," she greeted tiredly.

The cat mewed at her and padded to her bedroom door.

Riza narrowed her eyes at it. "Flamel, if you didn't want to be in here, you shouldn't have come in through the window."

Flamel yowled and pawed at the wood. Turning its lamp-like eyes to her, the cat gave her a patronising glare.

"Don't look at me like that," she snapped. Huffing, she stood and stomped towards the door. Wrenching it open, Riza glared at the cat. "Next time you feel like irritating someone, irritate Mustang. You seem to like him enough."

Flamel blinked at her. She had a feeling that if the cat had eyebrows, it would have raised one at her. _And you don't_? It seemed to ask.

Riza scowled. "Look, you," she hissed, jabbing a finger at it. "Don't you take that tone with me. You are a cat."

It mewed at her soothingly and stepped behind her, head-butting at her calves gently.

Riza sighed. "Alright," she muttered. "Let's go see if he's downstairs."

* * *

He wasn't. Riza glared at Flamel. "See? He's not down here."

The cat mewed and looked up at her. _You didn't used to care_, the stare told her mildly.

Riza sniffed. "I still don't," she said quickly, folding her arms across her chest. "I mean, _really_. He's... _nice_... but. Yeah."

Flamel mewed disbelievingly and trotted the last few steps of the staircase loftily. _Uh huh. I'll believe that_.


	11. A Lack

**Hot Chocolate**

**XI**

There was a lack of hot chocolate, Riza noted as she stared blankly into the empty box.

It was bad enough that she was still awake at this time in the morning.

Oh boy.

* * *

There was no hot chocolate in his mug that morning. Roy bit his lip. Had he done something wrong? Was Riza reverting back into the bully she had been when he'd first arrived? The lack of hot chocolate in his mug was unnerving and could mean several things but if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that Riza Hawkeye was not in a good mood.

And Riza Hawkeye was _terrifying_ when she was not in a good mood.

Oh boy.

* * *

He found her that morning looking unusually broody under the shade of her usual beech tree. Roy knew all too well that approaching her in this state was almost like poking a sleeping lion with a stick but he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and steeled himself for whatever would come next.

"Riza?" To his horror, her name came out in a somewhat terrified squeak. He coughed. "Is – is everything okay?"

She gave him a stony glare. "Everything's fine," she snapped. "Why?"

"It's – it's just," Roy began nervously, "you didn't make any hot chocolate this morning."

Riza's eyes narrowed. "What am I?" she snarled, getting to her feet. To the onlooker, she would have been _much _more intimidating if she wasn't level with Roy's chest, but the _glare _she fixed on him was _awful _and would have made lesser men cower. She prodded him in the chest. "A cafe waitress? Some sort of maid who makes your breakfast every morning?"

Roy gulped. "No! That's not what I meant!"

Her tirade continued, and Roy counted himself lucky that he was actually listening because the real problem slipped quite clearly into conversation. "Well good!" she snapped. "Because it's bad enough your presence is enough to throw off my sleeping habits, but you're also the reason we're out of hot chocolate and I can't get any today!"

And she shot him one last condescending glower and stormed back inside.

Roy gaped after her. A whole minute later, he shook himself out of his stupor and looked down at Flamel, who stared back at him innocently. Of course. They were out of hot chocolate. A lack of sleep made her cranky enough. A lack of hot chocolate combined _with _a lack of sleep? It was no wonder.

* * *

There was a light knock on Riza's door that evening. Scowling, Riza dragged herself to the door and yanked it open, wholly expecting to find Roy Mustang on the other side with some form of sheepish apology for the morning's events.

He wasn't. Instead, she found her mug on the hallway table with a note taped to the handle.

_Flamel lead the way to markets in town. Enjoy : )_


	12. Procrastinator

**Hot Chocolate**

**XII**

One day, in a moment so rare, Roy began to wonder whether hell had frozen over, Hawkeye-Sensei stepped out of his study.

At the time, Roy was having breakfast with Riza, and in the moment his eyes caught sight of Berthold Hawkeye in sunlight, the spoon of porridge on its way to his mouth froze and threatened to fall out of his hand. Riza turned her head and frowned curiously at her father.

"I'm needed at your Grandfather's," he told Riza gruffly. "I'll be out of town for a couple of weeks. I trust you'll be able to handle things here."

Riza nodded and turned back to her breakfast. Her father turned to Roy.

"I expect you to review the simple arrays and have them well mastered by the time I get back," he said.

Roy took his turn to nod. "Of course, Sensei."

* * *

With Hawkeye-Sensei out of town, Roy revelled in his freedom.

For two weeks, he would be able to enjoy the sunlight and Riza's company with the knowledge that he would not be required to end his days of relaxation by spending the evenings studying in the dank and dingy basement. Maybe he would be able to get some proper sleep while he was at it.

Most importantly though, two weeks without his Sensei meant two weeks of opportunities to achieve his second mission and Roy lamented: Riza Hawkeye would be laughing by the end of this fortnight and seeing as he had not heard her laugh the entire two and a half months he'd been here, failure was just not an option.

* * *

In total honesty, Riza was glad he father would be gone for two weeks. It wasn't that she hated him or didn't get along with him – in fact, his absence would probably be no different to his presence, as he practically lived in his study.

No, Riza was relieved that her father would be away for a little while. He was an intimidating man, even if he was never actually around. It was as if his presence was some sort of looming shadow over the house and his temporary absence was a breath of fresh air and a taste of true freedom.

It also meant that she would have human company more often, seeing as Mustang chose to converse with her while she attended to her usual duties often enough even in her father's presence. In his absence, she had a feeling he would just blatantly ignore his orders to study. There was proof of this the afternoon her father left.

She found him lying on the grass in the backyard with a stalk of straw in his mouth locked in a staring competition with Flamel.

"Shouldn't you be studying, Mr. Mustang?" she deadpanned as she stood over him and watched Flamel paw at his nose.

He looked up at her sheepishly. "No," he said with a small grin.

"Mr. Mustang, I don't think Father would be pleased with your constant attempts to procrastinate."

He shrugged. "I get away with it normally, don't I?" he said, batting at Flamel's paw. "Besides – I'd much rather keep you and Flamel company than be poring over those blasted hundred year old textbooks your dad makes me read."

Riza narrowed her eyes at him sternly.

Roy groaned. "Come on, Riza, don't make me study," he whined, pushing himself onto his knees. "I will later, okay? I just want to _relax _for now. Let me enjoy what little freedom I'll have for the next two weeks."

Riza rolled her eyes at him, giving him the tiny, amused smile she wore when he'd first made her smile all those weeks ago. "So long as you get to it later," she sighed. "I'll bring you some hot chocolate."

Roy grinned at her. "Thanks Riza."


	13. The First Attempt

**Hot Chocolate**

**XIII**

The problem with trying to make Riza Hawkeye laugh was the fact that she never did. And because she never did, Roy realised that he had no idea what her version of 'funny' was. How, pray tell, was he going about this latest task? How much of a buffoon would he have to be? How stupid did he have to make himself sound?

He paused in his thoughts. Scratch that last one. Riza didn't like stupidity. She was the last person he expected to find it funny.

He frowned to himself. He supposed that jokes were usually funny.

* * *

"Hey Riza," he said that morning as he sat at the counter while she made their breakfast. "Knock, knock."

Riza's hand stilled, and she turned her eyes to him and cast him a stare that depicted her unspoken question of "What the Hell?" in the loudest of volumes. The pause in between was a little bit awkward.

Roy coughed. "You're supposed to say 'Who's there?'" he said pointedly.

Riza blinked. Her expression remained sarcastic. "Knock, Knock jokes, Mr. Mustang? _Really_?"

He opened and closed his mouth twice, before he looked away and shook his head. "Alright, yeah, they're lame." And he shovelled a large piece of toast in his mouth and looked embarrassedly down at his plate. The silence returned when Riza turned back to the pot over the stove and stirred further at the porridge.

Mentally, Roy scowled. _That is pathetic, _he reprimanded himself. _Knock, Knock jokes – what the hell? _He coughed a second time and took another stab at it. "So... did you hear the one about the butter?"

"You wouldn't tell me," said Riza without missing a beat, "I might spread it."

Another silence ensued, and Roy found himself kicking at his brain for such a wonderful failure. Of course she knew that joke – it was old and undoubtedly un-funny. What possessed him to think Riza would find it _funny,_ let alone say it out loud.

"So, uh," he began, opting for one last shot. _Third time's the charm, right?_ "Three alchemists walk into a bar and there's a woman with really large – "

Riza turned her head and stared at him in a mixture of disgust and incredulity.

Roy winced. "... pogo sticks..." he coughed. He looked away awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. "I'm just... gonna go..."

"Yeah," Riza deadpanned. "I'd rather not deal with more failure."

* * *

Roy grumbled and kicked at Flamel's ball of yarn. What did he expect, really? That he would win over Riza's laughter by using lame jokes?

He snarled. "_Why_ do I fail so bad?"

* * *

**Sorry for the wait. The last chapter I wrote was on procrastination, what did you expect, really?**


	14. The Second Attempt

**In response to what appeared to be on Mustang's face in the last episode of Brotherhood.**

**SPOILERS LIE AHEAD IF YOU HAVEN'T HEARD YET.**

**Hot Chocolate**

**XIV**

That night, Roy was hit with a second brain wave. If Riza didn't find his jokes amusing, perhaps he would just have to do something that made him look stupid enough that she _would _find amusing. Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror and rubbing at his chin, he narrowed his eyes and glanced at the razor that sat gleaming under the bathroom light.

* * *

Well, it had taken the good part of a week, but Roy grinned proudly at his reflection and stroked at his upper lip. After seven days of itching under his nose and careful shaving everywhere but, he had finally grown something passable, something so ridiculous, Riza was bound to laugh at him for it: a light but noticeable dusting of facial hair on his upper lip – a moustache.

For one, he looked stupid – surely Riza would think so too, and perhaps she would find it stupid enough to laugh at. For another, he had spent a good half of the time her father was away growing this wretched thing, and if she didn't it funny then alchemy be damned, he would be very, _very _put off.

Scratching at the moustache and wrinkling his nose, Roy coughed and straightened his shirt before exiting the bathroom and heading downstairs.

* * *

Riza was halfway through her own breakfast when she noticed Mustang's feet appear at the top of the stairs. "You took your time, Mr. Mustang," she called at him as he descended. "What took y-"

She blinked. The mug of hot chocolate on the way to her lips froze as she stared blankly at the image before her. There was nothing particularly different about Mustang's appearance except for that... that _thing_ on his lip.

Riza cleared her throat and tore her eyes away from it in an effort not to stare.

"Morning, Riza," he greeted cheerfully as he approached. "What's up?"

"Nothing," said Riza lightly, refusing to look at him. She focussed instead on her cereal.

There was a pause in which Mustang took a seat at the counter nonchalantly and drank deeply from his daily mug of hot chocolate. "No marshmallows this morning?" he asked her.

"We're out," said Riza shortly, staring adamantly at the cereal box. "I'll have to buy some later on to refill my secret 'stache - stash," she corrected herself quickly. "I meant stash. Yeah."

She could almost hear Mustang smirking beside her. "How do you like my moustache then?"

Riza turned to him slowly and cringed. "It looks terrible. Get rid of it," she said quickly.

"You don't find it funny at all?" asked Mustang sounding almost disappointed.

"No," Riza answered shortly. "It looks terrible," she said again. "Get rid of it."

"But I spent a week growing this thing!" whined Mustang. "Tell me it at least makes me look older or more mature."

Riza raised an eyebrow at him and scrutinised his upper lip reluctantly. "You look awful," she deadpanned. "It looks like you scribbled it on yourself using permanent marker."

Roy hung his head. "And it's not funny?" he asked her in what sounded like a last ditch attempt at trying to keep it.

Riza reached for the slingshot on the edge of the counter, loaded it with a piece of toast and aimed it carefully at Mustang's head. "It's disgusting. Get rid of it _please_."

Dejectedly, Roy slid off the counter stool and dragged himself back upstairs.

Riza turned back to her cereal, shutting her eyes and massaging at her temples. From beside her she heard a mew. Flamel must have hopped into Mustang's vacated seat. "It's alright, Flamel," she said soothingly, turning her eyes towards it. "We just imagined the moustache. It'll go away, I promise."


	15. Third Time's the Charm

**Hot Chocolate**

**XV**

Moustache-less and wearing the expression of kicked puppy, Roy sat under Riza's beech tree later that day staring dejectedly into the alchemic text book in his lap. Head hung low, he sighed. He had known trying to make Riza laugh would be difficult but he was half way through his time limit and he was running out of ideas and the panic was starting to sink in. Difficult? Hardly. Damn near impossible seemed like a more correct description.

So, staring down at his textbook feeling miserable (because Riza had attacked his masculinity by saying his moustache looked terrible – which it did anyway, but still – and because it seemed impossible he would succeed in his latest mission), Roy scowled and reached for a pencil and his notes.

He would at least give Hawkeye-Sensei a reason not to yell at him when he got back.

Picking at a piece of chalk, Roy stood and dragged himself to the concrete walkway where he fell to his knees and drew a half hearted circle into the path. He had yet to try actual alchemy yet – Sensei was adamant on teaching him the theory behind it all first.

_Theory my foot_, he thought. There was only so much they could put into those textbooks, and he had been through enough of them to know most of it. A simple transmutation wouldn't be too hard, would it?

"I don't think Father would be entirely pleased if you blew up the walkway, Mr. Mustang," said a voice behind him.

Roy looked up. Riza was standing over him, watching him with her head tilted curiously to one side and with Flamel in her arms. "Hi Riza," he mumbled, looking away, still sore about what she had said about his moustache.

Riza rolled her eyes as if she had read his mind. "You looked awful with the moustache anyway, Mr. Mustang. Personally I think you're better off without it."

Roy raised his eyes to her. "So... you think I look more handsome without it?" he questioned hopefully.

She blinked at him. "That's not what I said," she said levelly. Still, Roy didn't miss the dusting of red that had appeared on her cheeks. "It's going to rain, Mr. Mustang," she told him. "I think it'd be wiser to go inside."

"Wait, wait," said Roy, finishing the transmutation circle. "I want to see if this will work."

"I stand by what I said earlier," admonished Riza. "Father won't be pleased if you blow the walkway."

Roy glanced at her and shrugged his shoulders. "I won't blow up the walk way," he told her, frowning. "Honestly Riza, you show such little faith in my alchemic knowledge."

"There's not much to have faith in," she responded without missing a beat. She stepped back and clutched Flamel tighter to her chest.

Roy rubbed his hands together.

The resulting pain was unexpected. Instead of anything productive, a small, blunt, but very solid tower of earth had shot up from the circle and collided straight into his forehead.

"Argh!" Roy stumbled backwards and clutched at his forehead, shutting his eyes and swearing loudly as pain shot through his head. "What the fu – I don't even – OW..."

But through the string of curses that escaped his mouth, he heard a giggle. Squinting through the small amount of blood that was now trailing from the tiny cut on his forehead, he saw Riza with a hand at her mouth trying to stifle her amusement. Good heavens, he thought. She was a sadist.

"What's so funny?" he grunted, pulling himself to his feet.

She bit her lip and placed Flamel on the ground as she approached. "I'm sorry," she grinned. "You just – it looked so stupid and – oh no, you're bleeding!"

"It's fine," said Roy, wiping at the blood. "How is it that you find _this_ stupid enough to laugh at but not my moustache?" he asked her as she pulled at the hand clutching at his head.

She shrugged. "I'm sorry," she said again. The grin still hadn't left her face.

Through the numbing pain coursing through his head, Roy couldn't find a reason to be irritated at her. She had laughed. Albeit, it was at him being in pain, but it was a laugh nevertheless. It was a sweet laugh, he thought, and as she wiped at his forehead with the edge of her scarf and as she took his wrist and pulled him inside for some proper treatment, he couldn't help but think that he didn't mind putting himself in more pain if it meant he'd hear her laugh again.

Then he frowned. Riza Hawekeye, he realised, would be the death of him.


	16. A Revelation

**Hot Chocolate**

**XVI**

The antiseptic stung, Roy thought grimly. His misfortune wasn't exactly the way he thought things would happen, but his mission had been completed.

Riza Hawkeye had laughed. She looked pretty when she did, he added as an afterthought.

And as she pressed a cotton ball to staunch the trickle of blood from his forehead, he wondered why she didn't do it more often. (And surely, there was a less painful way of making it happen too).

* * *

With a bottle of disinfectant sitting on the counter, a cotton ball in her right hand and a band-aid in her left and with an amused, sadistic grin on her face, Riza dabbed at Roy's forehead while he sat pouting at her on a kitchen stool.

"Well," began Riza, setting the cotton ball down, "I can't say I'm completely surprised at what happened. You should have waited for Father."

Roy scowled at her. "Riza, I've been here nearly two months. All your dad's made me do is read through old books."

Snorting, Riza peeled the paper from the band-aid and lifted at his fringe. "You're just impatient," she scoffed, pressing the band-aid to his head. "There," she said, sitting back to admire her handiwork. She hopped off the stool and reached for the disinfectant and bloodied cotton ball.

Roy rubbed at his forehead. "What? No kiss to make it better?"

Riza felt her back stiffen involuntarily and tried to pass it off with a small shrug. "I don't think something so small deserves that much attention," she recovered, ignoring the warmth creeping onto her cheeks and standing on her toes in an attempt to reach the cupboard medicine cabinet above the fridge. "I'll make it worse first, shall I?"

She heard Roy laugh nervously. "Haha... no," he said. And then, without thinking, he added, "You have a pretty laugh, y'know."

Thankful that she still had her back turned to him, she fought down the blush on her cheeks. "Um. Thank you," she said in what she hoped was a very sceptical sounding tone. Tossing the bag of cotton balls into the cupboard, she reached to put the bottle of antiseptic back on its shelf when she realised she couldn't quite replace it without help.

And suddenly, Roy Mustang was behind her. He plucked the bottle from her hands and set the bottle in its place before shutting the cupboard door with a snap.

She could feel his eyes looking down at her. "Why don't you laugh more often, Riza?" he asked curiously.

"If you haven't noticed, Mr. Mustang," she answered, "This isn't exactly the funniest place in the world."

Roy frowned down at her. "Something doesn't have to be funny for you to laugh," he said plainly. "Besides, you're only twelve years old – you'd look much more your age if you laughed more often."

Riza turned and edged past him, offering him a small smile and hoping that he wouldn't notice the dusting of red on her cheeks. "I think you should fix the walkway, Mr. Mustang."

Roy cocked his head at her. "Will you laugh more often if I do?"

She shrugged. "I might," she said, "But I'm sure Father won't."

Mustang grimaced. "Yeeeeah," he muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Alright, I'll do it now."

* * *

Flamel hopped onto Mustang's vacated stool after he left to fix the walkway and stared knowingly at its owner.

Riza stared back. It wasn't until they heard Mustang's triumphant cheer signalling the successful fixing of the concrete path that she spoke.

"Yeah, _alright_, you _win_," she snapped, looking away. "Maybe I do kind of like him," she mumbled.

Flamel mewed smugly. _That's what I thought._


	17. The Return

**Hot Chocolate**

**XVII**

For the first time in her life, Riza Hawkeye felt happy.

It wasn't as if she was an abused child or anything, it was just that, for the majority of her life, she had been alone. Her mother had died long ago, and her father had almost lived in his study since before she could remember; she didn't quite fit in with the other children at the local school, what with her boyish haircut and her unusual tendency to stick to her studies more often than she spoke to people, it was hardly surprising.

She had friends, of course. But even then, she couldn't quite be like them. She had other things to worry about, after all.

And if she were totally honest with herself, she had also envied her father's apprentices. In the end, he spent more time with them than he did with her (and she was his _daughter_ nonetheless). They also seemed to think that she was some sort of maid that would do whatever they told her to do and she was shy, not stupid, and she just couldn't have them treating her like she was.

But for the first time ever, Riza Hawkeye felt quite at ease with how things were. Roy Mustang was the single apprentice that seemed to care more for her wellbeing than whether or not he stayed her father's apprentice, and with her father away, he seemed to think that having her act like an actual twelve year old was a perfectly acceptable way to waste time. Which was a good thing, really, because she had felt much older for much too long and having a "little" fun by playing a game of hide-and-go-seek was the most fun she'd had in a very long time.

* * *

He should have known better than to suggest playing hide-and-go-seek with the girl who had lived in this house for twelve years. _Of course_ she knew where all the best hiding places were, so _of course _he'd never find her and _of course_ he'd never win.

"Riza, seriously!" he called, pausing in front of the cupboard under the stairs to scratch at the back of his head resignedly. "I've been 'it' for the past fifteen minutes! I'm not going to win!"

The cupboard door behind him creaked lightly and Roy frowned. "Riza?"

Something slammed into his back before he had time to register it. "Gotcha!" she giggled, tackling him around the waist.

It would have worked better if he wasn't so much bigger than she was in stature, Roy thought. Still, jolted by the unexpected momentum, he turned his head to her. "Ow," he groaned. "My kidneys."

Riza scoffed and stepped away from him, folding her arms across her chest and staring up at him triumphantly. "So what do I win?" she asked him.

Roy thought for a moment and pursed his lips. "Dinner," he said thoughtfully. "We can go to that Xingese place in town."

She frowned at him. "I was only joking Mr. Mustang," she said plainly.

"Well, I wasn't," grinned Roy, seizing her wrist and tugging her towards the door. He took her coat and held it out for her. "C'mon, we'll go now."

"But – "

He shook his head at her. "I'll have no objections," he said, throwing the coat over her shoulders. "Let's go."

* * *

The house was empty.

This was the first thing Berthold Hawkeye noticed when he stepped into his home that evening. The coat stand stood devoid of coats, the lights all switched off, the kitchen devoid of his daughter who should have been making dinner by now and the house deafeningly silent.

Berthold grunted, hanging his hat on the empty coat stand and placing his case on the hallway floor.

This wasn't exactly how he thought he'd be welcomed home.


	18. An Argument

**For TillyMe for being reviewer number 100.**

**Hot Chocolate**

**XVIII**

It was late. Nine PM to be precise. And Riza was tired. There had been a festival in town and they'd stayed out much later than Roy had intended.

He had a habit of forgetting that she was only twelve years old. For the entire he'd been staying with them, the maturity with which she went about her usual activities was far beyond her years. This was how the night found them; after flagging down a farmer who had told him he was taking his wagon in the direction of Riza's home, the two had jumped aboard at his invitation for the slow and bumpy ride home. It seemed that, for the first time since he'd first found her awake at unholy hours of the evening weeks and weeks ago, Riza had finally fallen asleep at a more correct time. Wrapped to her chin in his much larger and, he supposed, much warmer coat, she slept, curled soundly on a hay bale with her head in his lap.

The wagon crunched to a halt as the house came into view.

"We're here," wheezed the farmer, looking back at Roy. "I can take you right up if you want, so as not to disturb her," he said, jerking his head at Riza.

Roy shook his head. "It's fine," he whispered, shifting Riza's weight onto his back. Hopping lightly off the wagon with her riding piggy-back behind him, he bid the farmer "Thanks," and stepped up the gravel road.

* * *

Roy winced at the ear-splitting creak that echoed through the darkened hallway as he let himself into the house. Riza stirred behind him but did not wake.

"Well, well." The voice was gruff.

Roy froze and stepped through the doorway to the living room. Berthold Hawkeye sat grimly at kitchen bench, a glass of wine in his hand and a frown etched into his features.

"H-Hawkeye-Sensei," he choked. "Y-you're back earlier than we – than we expected..."

The older man scoffed. "It looks as if I can't say the same for you," he stated. He lifted the glass to his lips and drank deeply before setting his tired eyes back on Roy. "Where have you been?"

"With all due respect, Sensei," began Roy nervously, "I think I should put Riza – "

"_Where have you been?_" Hawkeye repeated.

Behind him, Riza mumbled something in her sleep and shifted a little. Roy cringed and cast an anxious glance from his Sensei to his Sensei's daughter and back again. "Just – just in town, Sensei," he whispered. "There was a festival – I just wanted for Riza to have a little fun and – "

Hawkeye shook his head. "How many times, Roy?" he growled. Roy stepped back a little. "How many times do I have to tell you that my daughter is off-limits?"

"Sensei, I was just – "

"You disobey me once again!" he snapped. "I allow you to befriend her, but _this_?" He looked disapprovingly at Roy with Riza sleeping soundly on his back. "I cannot allow this!"

"Hawkeye-Sensei, I only have her best interests at heart!"

"As do I!" snarled Hawkeye, getting to his feet. "I am her father and I will not have you raising her hopes only to crush them by abandoning her!"

"I have no intention of leaving her!" snapped Roy.

Stirring again, Riza stirred and mumbled something incoherent into his shoulder. Roy cringed and glanced back at her. "Sensei," he whispered desperately, turning his eyes back to his teacher. "She's only twelve years old and it's just seemed like so long since she's acted her age. I just – " he glanced at her again and shifted her weight a little. "I have no intention of leaving her, Sensei," he repeated.

"So you say," scoffed Hawkeye. "You are only here for the secret of Flame Alchemy, Roy, you do not fool me."

"Yet you agree to teach me," countered Roy.

"I must pass on my knowledge to _someone_," said Hawkeye.

"Why not her?" demanded Roy. "She's your daughter. Who better to inherit your knowledge?"

Hawkeye shook his head. "Look at me, Roy," he growled, gesturing at his misshapen appearance. "Look what alchemy has done to me. I am an obsessed man! I will not have my daughter meddle with this. Any other worthy student will do. You are a different story. You are ambitious and you are clever – you are almost perfect, but you are here only for the knowledge. Once you have it, you will leave and my daughter will be alone once again!"

"Like _hell _I'm only here for the knowledge," Roy snarled. "Gaining the knowledge may be the reason I came here, but I hardly intend to abandon your daughter once I have it! And whether you teach the rest to me or not, I _won't leave her_! She's been lonely enough for too long – and you've done little to help."

There was a pause. Both master and student glared at the other before Roy turned on his heel and stepped heavily out of the room.

"Where are you going, Roy?" called his Sensei.

"Putting Riza to bed," snapped Roy. "I take it I won't be your student by tomorrow evening, so I'll spend tomorrow clearing out my belongings. Mark my words, though, Sensei, I will _not_ let Riza be that lonely again."

"Roy!"

But he wasn't listening. By the time Hawkeye had limped to the stairs, Roy was gone, and the slam of a bedroom door was all that was to be heard.


	19. A Promise

**Hot Chocolate**

**XIX**

Slamming Riza's bedroom door behind him, Roy heaved a sigh. After what had just transpired, he had a hunch that he could kiss his ambitions of using alchemy for the people good bye. Head hung low, he carried Riza to her bed and lay her down on the covers, removing his coat from form and pulling the sheets up to her chin.

Roy watched her for a moment before shaking his head and sitting down on the mattress beside her. "I'm sorry, Riza," he whispered, resting his elbows on his knees and staring down at the floor. "It doesn't look like I'll be sticking around for very long."

"You're leaving?"

Roy felt his eyes widen and jerked his head to look at her. Riza was staring sadly at him from under the covers. Her voice was so small and so fragile sounding that he was reminded once again that, mature as she was in the day time, she was still only twelve years old. He offered her a small smile. "How is it that you slept through the entire exchange downstairs and only wake up once it's all quiet again?" he asked her.

She shook her head at him. "I heard everything," she mumbled. "Father didn't sound pleased."

Roy snorted. "Not at all," he said bitterly, looking away.

"He was right," she mumbled. "All the others were only here for the knowledge, you know. They were all so arrogant – Father kicked them all out before they could get anywhere."

Roy scoffed. "Is that why you were so mean to me at first?" he asked her, lifting his gaze to her. "You thought I'd be just like them?"

She nodded. "I... was a little bit bitter, too," she muttered sincerely.

"Because your dad spent more time with his apprentices than with you, right?" he said.

Riza nodded again.

Roy gave her a sad smile. "I thought so," he said. "I figured it all out while your dad was gone. You've always been so alone, Riza. Initially I just wanted to be your friend, but after a little while, I realised that you'd been acting older than you were for so long because you were so lonely, and that the reason you hardly ever smiled or laughed was because there was no one else around to smile or laugh with you, right?"

Riza offered him a third nod. "Did... did you mean what you said downstairs?" she asked him, her voice even quieter than before.

Roy took his own turn to nod. "I did," he said, lifting a hand to brush at her fringe. "I don't want you to be alone again, Riza – even after tomorrow when I won't be here anymore, I'll still be in town if you need me."

"If Father were going to kick you out, he would have done it already," she said. "You don't have to leave."

Roy shrugged wryly. "Somehow I don't think he appreciated the way I spoke to him about you," he sighed. "Chances are he's not going to want to teach me the rest, let alone let me stay. But don't worry, okay? For now, I think you should go back to sleep."

He motioned to stand up, but Riza bolted upright and seized his wrist before he could get anywhere and Roy took a moment to realise how much younger than him she really was. Three whole years, he thought to himself. It was the first time he'd ever seen her for how small she was in reality.

"Don't go," she whispered. "Please?"

He shook his head sadly. "Your dad's not too happy with me, he's not going to let me stay," said Roy grimly, easing his wrist out of her hands and placing his own on her shoulders in an effort to push her back into bed. "But go back to sleep, okay? Things will be better tomorrow."

"They won't be if you're leaving," Riza mumbled, allowing him to tuck her back in.

Roy smiled at her. "I'm so glad you're not mean to me anymore," he said, laughing a little. "Don't worry – things will be alright, I promise."

"You can't promise that," muttered Riza.

"You heard what I said though, didn't you?" replied Roy. "Whether he teaches me or kicks me out, I'll still be around for you, you know."

There was a pause, broken only after a minute or so of silence by a sniff. "Can you stay anyway?" Riza asked him, her voice breaking. "Just – just until I fall asleep again? Please?"

Roy looked down at her and laughed softly, sitting back down beside her and wiping at the tears that had begun to drip down Riza's cheek. "You're much less scary when you're crying," he whispered. "I'll be right here, I promise."

* * *

From somewhere at his feet, there was mew.

Berthold Hawkeye, standing at Riza's door and listening to conversation on the other side with a fist half raised to knock, looked down and found a pair of lamp-like eyes staring up at him through the darkness.

"I've not been a very good father, have I, Flamel?" he whispered gruffly.

Flamel mewed a sarcastic sounding mew and stalked away with its tail held high.

Berthold sighed and hung his head. "I'm sorry, Riza," he whispered to no one in particular, turning away from the door and making his way back downstairs. "Roy is right. You have more rights to the secrets of Flame Alchemy than most, and I will bequeath it to you... if you will allow me to."

From down the hall, there was a soft, sad yowl, as Flamel slipped through Roy's bedroom door to rest in the shadows of the night.


	20. The Father's Request

**Hot Chocolate**

**XX**

Riza woke the next morning feeling like she had hardly slept at all. Her eyes felt puffy and tired from the tears that were shed last night, and when she turned to get out of bed, she found that someone else was sitting where Roy had watched over her the night before.

"F-Father," she croaked, shifting backwards in surprise. Rubbing a tired hand across her eyes to clear her vision, she frowned at him. "Is – Is everything alright?"

Berthold turned his head to face her. "I have to apologise, Riza," he said hoarsely. "I've not been very much of a father, have I?"

Her frown deepened. "Where's Mister Mustang?" she asked nervously.

Her father gave a mirthless chuckle. "He's not left yet," he answered. "He's still asleep, and you should know, my dear, that I have no intention of asking him to leave."

Riza blinked, taken aback. "I don't understand... we – we thought – "

"He is the perfect apprentice, Riza," her father told her. "He has the brains and the ambition, and to top it all, he has the heart. And I've not seen you happy in so long, my dear," he added, looking away ashamed. "Roy will take good care of you, and I daresay he's better company than I will ever be."

"Father..."

He looked up at her suddenly. "I pray you'll forgive me, Riza, for being a terrible father but also because I must ask you a great favour. You are perfectly entitled to say no, of course. I will not force this upon you."

Rubbing at her eye with the heel of her hand to banish the sleep and the tears threatening to fall again, Riza sniffed. "I... Father... of course," she muttered. "Of course."

"The secrets to Flame Alchemy," said Berthold quietly. "Can I entrust them to your back?"

* * *

Roy woke late that morning to an empty house.

Riza had not made breakfast as usual. In fact, instead of finding his regular cup of hot chocolate, he found a note taped to the back of his usual kitchen stool. Frowning, Roy stumbled down the stairs and stifled a yawn as he picked at it and skimmed over his Sensei's untidy scribble.

_Riza and I are in town_, it read. _We will return later this afternoon. You are excused from your studies today. _

And then in Riza's much neater hand: _Help yourself to whatever. No hot chocolate this morning. Sorry._

Roy frowned. Did that mean what he thought it meant?

* * *

Riza did a very un-Riza-ish thing when Roy heard her father knocking that afternoon.

"Sensei," he greeted, opening the door for them. "You're back. Where's - "

And before he even finished the sentence, his Sensei moved back and Riza stepped into view from behind him. She stared at him for a moment, looking as if she was deciding on something, and, when he least expected it, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist (because she was far too small to be able to reach his shoulders properly) in a much unexpected hug.

It took a second for her action to sink in before Roy had the sense to wrap his own arms around her shoulders to return it.

Hawkeye, in turn, held up a brown paper bag for him to take. "Dinner," he said as Roy reached for it. "Riza suggested it."

Roy frowned. "Sensei," he said as Riza released him. She did so slowly and with what looked like a slight wince, but Roy thought nothing of it and frowned instead at her father. "I don't understand. I've packed and all, I take it you'll want me to – "

But Hawkeye shook his head and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "I do believe you promised my daughter that you'd be 'right here', as I recall," he said gruffly. "I expect you to follow through with that." And he hung his hat and coat on the coat stand, sidestepped Roy and Riza, nodded at his daughter muttering "You know where I am if you need anything for your back, alright?" and limped off to his study.

Roy stared after him, mouth hanging open slightly, and turned his gaze to Riza.

"Am... I _not_ being kicked out?" he questioned, daring to raise his hopes.

Riza giggled a little and sidestepped him as well, making her way to the kitchen and pulling two dinner plates from the cupboard. "I suggest you unpack, Mister Mustang," she said, smiling. "It seems like you'll be here a while."


	21. Peace

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXI**

Riza winced.

She had agreed to this. Her father had given her ample time to disagree, but no. She _wanted _to be of use to him. She wanted to be the dutiful daughter she had always been, and he had explained it to her – in the end, _she _would decide who to pass the secret on to; _she _would decide who was worthy of it and anyone who wanted it would have to prove themselves to her; it was entirely _her _choice, and call her old fashioned, but it was an honour being given full authority over her father's life's work.

But honourable as it was, it _hurt_. She could hardly move without cringing at spikes of pain in her back. She couldn't lie back without feeling the sting of the still-tender skin. It just felt _sore_ all over, and, lying on her front one night, trying to ignore the tingling of the fresh tattoo in her back, she buried her head in her pillow and sighed.

Waiting for the pain to go away so she could sleep wasn't going to work.

Well. She'd seen this happen before.

* * *

He was there. Sitting on his kitchen stool, hunched over a small black note book with a mug in his hands. Flamel was curled on his lap. He looked up.

"And there I thought your sleeping patterns had finally fixed themselves," Roy said to her with a smirk. "Can I get you some hot chocolate?"

Riza gave him a small smile. "Yes please," she said quietly, stepping gingerly down the stairs.

Roy must have noticed because he frowned at her as he lifted the cat from his lap and placed it on the chair. "What's wrong?" he asked her, as he moved around the bench to pull her mug from the cupboard.

As she climbed into her stool, Riza blinked. "Nothing," she answered quickly as Flamel stood, stretching its paws and jumping into her lap. "I... didn't sleep right last night," she lied, looking away. "I'm just... a little bit sore..."

Roy raised an eyebrow at her and somehow, she knew that he didn't buy it. He didn't ask though – for that, she was thankful. Instead, he dropped a couple of marshmallows into her steaming mug and handed it to her without a word. Then, he moved back around the counter and hopped back into his stool, picking at his pencil and shutting the little black notepad.

"Is everything alright?" he asked her finally, leaning his arms on the counter.

Riza nodded into her cup. She opened her mouth to speak, but she hesitated and snapped it shut again quickly.

Flamel seemed to notice because it looked up at her with indignant eyes and nudged her wrist with its head encouragingly. _It'll be okay_, it told her. _Just say it._

In the pause that stretched between them, Roy watched her carefully, until, finally –

"I'm... really glad... you didn't leave," she mumbled shyly, not looking at him.

Roy blinked. She figured that it must have struck him as odd how weeks and weeks ago she would have jumped at the chance to get rid of him. But, a moment later, he smiled, and raised a hand to ruffle her hair.

"So am I," he whispered. "So am I."


	22. Winter

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXII**

It got much colder much quicker than they'd anticipated, and one day, Roy woke shivering under a pile of blankets to find snow on his windowsill. Blinking the bleak winter sun out of his eyes, he peered at it curiously and sat up in bed, wrinkling his nose and coughing slightly to clear his throat. And, somewhere in the back of his mind, he groaned. The itchiness under his eyes, and the excess of phlegm in his throat could only mean one thing.

"ACHOO!"

He sniffed.

Riza would have a field day with this.

* * *

"You're sick, aren't you?"

Amazing. He wasn't even halfway down the stairs, and Riza, with her back to him, had already anticipated his latest dilemma. She turned her head amusedly in his direction and snorted into her mug as he stumbled groggily down the stairs. "You look terrible," she said.

"Good morning to you too," he greeted, sniffing.

She rolled her eyes at him, muttering "Useless," under her breath, and hopping lightly off her stool to cross the tiled kitchen floor to the cupboard from which she pulled out a mug.

Roy watched her, frowning, seeing as his hot chocolate was already sitting on the counter with some toast and bacon. She must have noticed his eyes on her because she raised an eyebrow at him as she filled a saucepan with water and put it on the stove with a deep _clunk_.

"Chicken soup," she said simply, turning at the dial. Then she pointed at his stool. "Sit there," she ordered, "and watch over it. I'll go tell father so he doesn't catch whatever it is you have." And she seized a tea towel, wiped at her hands, and disappeared down the hall.

There was a mew. Roy turned his gaze down and allowed it to fall on the ball of fuzz that was Flamel. It looked amused.

Roy massaged at the bridge of his nose. Of course, he thought grimly. After all the time it spent with her, that cat would _have _to be just as sadistic as its owner.

"Don't _smirk_ at me," said Roy, stepping down the last few steps. "You're gonna get it, Flamel, I swear."

* * *

"He's sick isn't he?"

Somehow, Riza wasn't surprised. "I think it'd be wise to let him have a couple of days off, Father," she said, stepping lightly in the gaps between the books that littered the floor to approach him.

Berthold turned his head slightly and extended an arm for his daughter to catch. Drawing her towards him in the most fatherly way he was capable of, he asked her quietly: "How's your back then?"

Riza shrugged. "I can't feel it anymore," she answered. "No pain or anything."

He patted her shoulder lightly in what she supposed he thought was fatherly way. The gesture was appreciated. It'd been a long time since he'd been acting like her father anyway. He turned back to his desk and reached for his pen with ink-stained fingers. "Can I ask you to pass a message on to Roy?"

Riza nodded. "Of course."

"Tell him not to touch those textbooks I lent him while he's still got that bug," Hawkeye said gruffly. "Those are years and years old I'd rather not have him sneezing all over them and contaminating the pages."

Riza sniggered. "He won't, don't worry," she grinned. "I'll bring you lunch later." She turned and stepped through the maze of books to leave.

"Riza," her father called.

She paused and turned slightly.

"You're... a good daughter," he said awkwardly, keeping his eyes to his notes. "Thank you."

The smile that tugged at her lips was simple. "You're welcome..." she said quietly as she turned to leave the room. "Dad."

She didn't need to see the smile on her father's face to know that he had one as she shut the door behind her.


	23. The Fever

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXIII**

Well, he couldn't complain, Roy thought. As unpleasant as it was to have been sent back to bed by a twelve year old armed with a wooden spoon and a slingshot who had told him to leave before he contaminated the soup (which, he had protested, she'd _told _him to watch over), at least he was being given the day off, right?

At least he'd be able to rest for the day with Riza playing the part of a twelve year old nurse – and he had to admit, when she was being perfectly friendly and when he took the time to really watch her as she went about her chores, she was very sweet twelve year old – almost to the point of being cute (not that he would ever tell her that, of course).

Nonetheless, he shivered under the pile of blankets he'd pulled up over his head to block the sunlight and to savour the warmth and sniffed. _The day off is worth the headache_, he reminded himself.

Then he felt something prod at his head. Roy grimaced pulling down at the covers to peer over the top.

Riza stood over him with a breakfast tray balanced in one hand and a glass of water in the other. The smirk she wore was unnerving.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a little too sadistic for your age?" he asked her croakily.

She thought for a moment. "Hmm... Yeah," she answered, setting the tray on his desk and pulling at the chair beneath it to sit at his bedside.

"Has anyone ever told you that being sadistic is unhealthy?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "No," she deadpanned. "There's nothing unhealthy about finding your misery funny."

Roy groaned and forced himself to sit up. "You're awful," he grumbled, reaching for the glass of water.

"Only to you," she smirked.

* * *

The day off was not worth the headache.

At least, it wasn't worth the headache and everything that came with it – the mild fever, the blocked nose, the hacking cough, and _Riza_, good heavens, _Riza's unnerving, sadistic grin_. She didn't even have to taunt him for him to feel the full blast of her amusement.

She simply sat at his bedside with a bowl of water in her lap and a damp towel in her hands, shoving a thermometer in his mouth at hourly intervals and offering him painkillers for the throbbing pain in his temple wearing that same, sadistic grin she wore only when he was in pain.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

As amused as she was in the morning that he was sick, by four o'clock in the afternoon, Riza had begun to get worried.

She'd been watching over him since she'd sent him back to bed and the fever he'd been hit with didn't seem to be getting any better. In fact, if anything, it was just getting worse. As she refilled the bowl in the kitchen sink and watched the water level rise while Mustang had excused himself to use the bathroom, she bit her lip.

She was no doctor, but after all the bed rest and vitamins and painkillers she had fed him at regular intervals, his fever should have been dying down at least. Only it wasn't.

Shutting the water off, she lifted the bowl from the sink and heaved a worried sigh, turning from the kitchen to climb the stairs into the upstairs hallway and back to Mustang's room. But there was a worrying thud that came from the bathroom ensured she didn't get there.

"Mr. Mustang?" she asked cautiously, knocking at the wood. "Is everything alright?"

There was no answer, and, frowning, Riza pressed at the door and pushed it open slowly.

The bowl dropped from her hands and a small gasp escaped her lips.

Roy Mustang lay shivering and face down on the bathroom floor.


	24. The Wait

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXIV**

In all of Berthold Hawkeye's life, he couldn't remember a time he'd been as terrified as when he'd heard his daughter's horrified shriek sound from the upstairs bathroom.

He'd never heard Riza scream before.

The fact was that she had, and that was what scared him the most. What, of all things, could have possibly caused her to scream like that? What, of all things, could possibly have caused his usually strong, independent, I-don't-take-your-crap daughter to not only be _screaming_, but to be _calling for him_?

Hawkeye had never moved so fast in his life.

* * *

"DAD! DAD!"

Riza wasn't sure she'd ever yelled herself hoarse before, nor did she know if she'd ever felt this much panic well in her chest, but, kneeling at Roy Mustang's side and crouched over his shivering form, the one thing she did know was the last time she had been this scared was the night her mother had collapsed and never got up again.

Shaking at Roy's shoulders and pressing the back of her hand against his burning forehead, she winced. "Mr. Mustang! Hey! Get up, come on!"

But he didn't.

Riza had never felt so helpless.

"DAD!"

* * *

The sight of his daughter kneeling terrified beside the collapsed form of his apprentice very nearly gave him a heart attack.

"Riza!" he choked, stumbling into the bathroom and reaching to pull her to her feet. "What happened? Are you okay?"

She nodded mutely and allowed hands. "Mr. Mustang," she said hoarsely. "I – he just collapsed – I don't know what happened – his fever – "

Berthold held up a hand to stop her. "Quickly. Call the doctor in town."

"Is-is he going to okay?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Berthold took her shoulders. "He will be, I promise. Call the doctor."

* * *

The wait for Doctor Mallet to arrive was agonising. After ringing his office, Riza had hurried back up to the bathroom where her father had heaved Mustang into the bathtub and turned on the tap until all but Roy's head was submerged in chilly water in an effort to relieve his fever.

The white cotton shirt Mustang had been wearing was soaked and draped over his forehead while Hawkeye stood back and beckoned his daughter into the bathroom.

"Watch over him," he said to her quietly. "How long did the doctor say he'd be?"

Kneeling on the tiles beside the tub and rolling up her sleeves, Riza answered quietly: "Fifteen minutes." Then she paused and looked up at her father. "Will – will he be - ?"

"He'll be fine," Berthold said, placing a fatherly hand atop her head. "He'll be fine – watch over him, alright? I'll go and wait for the doctor."

He turned to leave, but Riza seized his hand.

Berthold blinked, trying to look unsurprised at her action. "...It'll okay, Riza," he murmured finally, kneeling beside her. "I'll be downstairs if you need me. I'll wait for the doctor. Stay here and look after Roy. I've a feeling you won't want to be the one waiting downstairs for the doctor. He'll be okay."

Riza drew a shaky breath and nodded. "Okay."

And when her father's footsteps had faded down the stairs, she lifted a hand and pulled the shirt from Roy's forehead to soak it again in cold water and something soft and furry pressed itself against her leg.

Flamel was looking up at her anxiously.

Replacing the soaking shirt over his forehead, she turned her eyes to the cat and scratched it behind its ears. "He'll be okay, Flamel," she mumbled, leaning her arms against the porcelain of the tub and pressing her forehead into the sleeves of her shirt. "He has to be."


	25. Douche Bag

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXV**

"You did well by him," Doctor Mallet told her father as he pressed a hand to Roy's forehead. Riza was watching anxiously from the doorway having been ushered – or rather, dragged out so that the doctor had room to work. "His fever's gone right down – I think it best we get him back into bed so he can rest properly."

"Will he need anything afterwards? Medicine or the like?" asked Berthold quietly as he pulled his sleeves up to his elbows.

The doctor shook his head. "There's not much I can prescribe – I would say just keep him warm, make sure he drinks plenty of fluids and watch his over all body temperature – he should be alright again in a couple of days." He glanced at Riza. "If you could, my dear," he asked gently, "bring us a towel and some warm clothes for the boy and then shut the door behind you? Just so we can get him changed and ready for bed again."

Riza hesitated before offering a small nod and padding softly down the hall way.

"He's not your son, you say?" said Mallet curiously, turning back to Hawkeye.

"My apprentice," corrected Berthold gruffly.

Mallet hummed. "Your daughter seems especially worried," he said. It was more of a question than a statement, really – an enquiry as to why Riza had nearly fought to stay at his side when there was no real relation between them.

"They are close," answered Berthold shortly as he and Mallet worked to heave Roy out of the tub. "They have become rather attached to one another. I imagine Riza feared the worst."

They lapsed into silence when Riza appeared at the doorway with the items Mallet had asked for.

* * *

Naturally, after Mallet and Hawkeye had managed to move him back into bed, Riza seated herself at Roy's bedside and watched quietly as a pile of blankets were pulled up over Mustang's slumbering form.

Hawkeye placed a reassuring hand on his daughter's shoulder as he stepped back and allowed Mallet to check that everything was in order.

"He seems to be well on his way to recovery," said the doctor finally, stepping back and turning to the father and daughter behind him. "If you have any other concerns, go right ahead and call my office. Just give him plenty of rest and fluids and he should be right in a day or two."

Riza released a shaky sigh and rubbed a tired hand across her eyes as her father removed the hand from her shoulder to shake Mallet's and to beckon him out of the room to discuss the medical bill.

Shoulders slumping in relief, Riza rested her head in her elbows on the bed beside Roy while Flamel, who had followed the entire exchange like a silent ghost of a cat, leapt up onto the bed and nestled itself in the crook beneath Roy's other arm.

* * *

Roy woke groggy and tired and feeling as if he'd spent the good part of a day in an oven that evening to find a ball of fuzz that was Flamel on his left side and the owner of a mop of blonde hair asleep with her head in her arms on his right. Tearing the pile of blankets away from his neck and with a mild headache and all, he cracked a smile.

And there he thought he had only dreamed Riza's adamant refusal to leave his side.

The urge to brush the hair from her face was overwhelming, but he stilled his already raised hand and opted, instead, to move Flamel from its place beneath his elbow and to climb gingerly out of bed for some hot chocolate.

* * *

"_Why are you out of bed?_"

Roy winced slightly. It'd been a long time since he'd heard her yelling at him in _that _tone. That same tone that could only mean hell and back for him.

"Er... hi... Riza," he greeted nervously, stirring the second of two mugs of hot chocolate. "Why don't you – er – head on back upstairs? You looked like you needed the rest."

"_Me_?" she snapped, glaring at him. "_You're _the one who collapsed from a fever and you have the _nerve _to tell me _I'm _the one who needs rest?"

Feeling as if the only way to stop being yelled at was his old method of calming her down, he held up her mug. "I made you some hot chocolate?"

Riza scowled. "Don't think that's going to work on me this time!" she snarled. "Get back to bed _right now_ and if you _ever _scare me like that again – " She stopped herself and glared down at him from the stair case. "Just – get back to bed!"

Weighing his chances, Roy gulped. Then, as calmly as he could, he set down both mugs of hot chocolate, approached the fuming twelve year old, seized her wrist and yanked her into his firm embrace.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he murmured. "I'm sorry."

There was a sniff.

"You okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she snapped, tearing herself away from him. "You're just a douche bag." And she stomped past him, seized her hot chocolate from the counter and stormed back up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

There was a pause.

And then, the door opened again – "_Don't ever do that again!" _– before another SLAM echoed through the house.


	26. A Death

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXVI**

"I see you're feeling better already."

Roy tore his eyes from the dimly lit landing upstairs.

Berthold Hawkeye stood, cane in hand, in the hallway next to the stairs wearing what looked like an amused smirk that Roy hardly dared to believe was actually there.

"Sensei," he greeted, blinking slightly. "I – uh – "

Hawkeye shrugged a little bit and limped into the kitchen. "Riza was almost hysterical," he told Roy, opening the pantry and reaching for the box of teabags in the corner. "I hope you don't intend on putting her through that again."

"Uhm. Of course not, Sensei," answered Roy awkwardly, still marvelling at the fact that his Sensei was out of his study. He shook himself out of his stupor and rubbed his neck feeling a little sheepish. "You – uh – heard her yelling at me?"

Hawkeye snorted as he brought his mug to his lips. "Who didn't?" he scoffed. "The doctor very nearly had to drag her out of the room so he could get to you."

Roy winced. "It was bad enough to get a doctor involved?"

"You fainted, Roy," said Hawkeye flatly. "I expect you to make it up to her."

* * *

As she lay on her side in bed, Riza really shouldn't have felt surprised when she heard the quiet knock on her door before Mustang let himself in without her permission.

She scowled and turned over in an effort not to look at him.

He didn't take the hint. Instead, he sat down on her mattress and prodded her shoulder. "Riza?"

Adamant on ignoring his existence, Riza snarled but said nothing. There was a moment in which she wanted to seize the nearest throw-able object and fire it at his forehead. Clearly she had been too nice to him lately if he felt like he could prod her shoulder when she was in a mood and get away with it unscathed.

Her fingers twitched, but the words that came out of Roy Mustang's mouth sent her mind reeling instead.

"What do you want for Christmas?"

She blinked. "_What?_" she asked, bolting upright despite herself.

"What do you want for Christmas?" Roy repeated. "It's two weeks away and I figure I should get you something to say thank you."

"For what?" Riza questioned, irritation replaced by a mixture of confusion and mild surprise.

At this point, Roy looked away sheepishly. "Your dad told me that you took pretty good care of me after what happened today," he said slowly, choosing his words with utmost care by the sounds of it.

"I didn't do anything," said Riza blankly.

Seeming reluctant to remind her of the day's events, Roy braced himself for the onslaught of irritation that was likely to follow. "I heard you didn't want to leave," he said timidly. "And that the doctor had to drag you away. Is that true?"

The scowl returned, and Riza fell backwards into bed and turned away from him again. "It's none of _your _business whether he did or not," she grumbled into her pillow.

She felt a comforting hand rub at her shoulder. "I didn't mean to scare you," he told her again.

"I wasn't scared," she denied vehemently.

Roy fought the urge to roll his eyes. "That's not what you said downstairs," he said.

Riza said nothing. Roy sighed and allowed a small smile to appear on his face. "If it were you, I would have been terrified," he muttered softly. "Which is why I'm really glad it wasn't you. I'm sorry for... well... making you worry, but thank you for taking such good care of me. Please don't stay mad at me?"

There was a pause that stretched between them for a long thirty seconds, in which Riza glared irritably at the wall and Roy's hand refused to leave her shoulder. Finally, she gave a huffy sigh.

"I don't want anything for Christmas," she muttered.

Roy smirked. "Don't think that's going to put me off getting you something, so you may as well tell me now and save me the trouble of trying to find out myself."

"I don't want anything," repeated Riza pushing herself up into a sitting position.

"Well you're going to get something anyway," said Roy firmly, ignoring the scowl that stretched itself across her features and ruffling her hair.

* * *

Having pushed open Roy's window, Flamel tread lightly over the snowy roof of the Hawkeye estate, jumped into the beech tree to climb gingerly down the trunk and nestled itself in a gap between two protruding roots.

Its job was done. Riza had company she could rely on and for the first time since the death of her mother, she could act her age again.

Staring up at her window, Flamel meowed contentedly and lay its head in its paws, giving a last feline sigh before allowing the cold to take hold of its body.


	27. Loss

**For ****Lightest'Ink****, reviewer number 200, and ****FMA-KMWS-B-N-CCS****, who worked out the symbolism behind Flamel.**

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXVII**

The next morning, as Riza stumbled out of bed and made her way clumsily down the stairs, something in the back of her mind told her that something was very, very wrong.

She glanced wearily around the downstairs landing, her body tense, allowing a small frown to cross her features.

"Riza?" came a sleepy voice from behind her. Roy Mustang was watching her from the top of the stairs, cotton robe in hand, with lines of mild concern creasing his forehead. "You okay?"

Riza turned her eyes to him. "You – you haven't seen Flamel, have you?"

Roy thought for a moment. "Er..." he began, scratching the back of his head. "Last I saw him was yesterday night. He was asleep on my bed. And then..." he paused. "And then, I went to apologise for worrying you and when I got back to bed, he was gone."

Biting her lip, Riza made her descent onto the landing and glanced about the empty living room and kitchen. "It's... not like him to just disappear like that," she muttered.

Pulling the robe around his form, Roy followed her and joined her on the foot of the stairs. "Maybe he's with your dad?" he suggested.

Riza shook her head. "No," she said, "He doesn't like dad much. He's usually with me or you but..." she trailed off, glancing around the living room again. "Where is he...?"

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Roy gave her a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sure he's just gone off to find some mice or something," he told her kindly. "He's a grown cat – he can take care of himself, right?"

The frown refused to leave her face, but she turned to him and sighed. "Right..." she mumbled quietly.

* * *

By the late afternoon, Riza was beside herself in the most beside-herself fashion someone as stoic as Riza Hawkeye could be. She wore the lines the creased her brow that morning in a seemingly permanent frown of concern for her missing cat.

Roy couldn't blame her. It seemed as if Flamel had been her only real companion since the death of her mother, however long ago that was – and to be totally honest, he was worried too. Flamel was the reason she didn't hate him anymore, he reminded himself, and that if he hadn't taken advice from a cat – as mad as it was that he did – he mightn't be here anymore. And if he were completely honest with himself, seeing her in this state made him wish he could do something – _anything_ – to fix the problem.

As he watched her swill the remnants of her hot chocolate around her mug, concern etched on her features, he climbed out of bed and made his way to his closet to pull out his coat.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, narrowing her eyes. "Get back in bed – the doctor said – "

But Roy wasn't listening. Instead, he took the mug from her and placed it on his desk before taking her hand and pulling her up. "We're going to look for Flamel," he said firmly, leading her out of the room.

"Mr. Mustang – " she protested, yanking at her arm in a feeble attempt to pull him back into bed.

"I'm all better already, Riza," he reasoned with her. "I'm worried about Flamel too, you know."

"But – " She cut herself off, torn between sending him back to bed for proper rest and letting him help her look for her cat. "What – what if -"

Roy turned to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I won't get sick again, okay?" he told her. "We're going to find him, I promise."

* * *

Roy saw it before she did: the brown tuft of fur peeking out from under a layer of snow under Riza's favourite beech tree – and it could only mean one thing. His breath hitched, a creeping fog of dread filling up the cavity in his chest. "Oh no..." he whispered.

"What's wrong?" asked Riza, shivering beside him.

He looked from her to the spot of fur and back again, gritting his teeth in both cold and fear for the cat. Slowly, he raised a shaking hand and pointed in the direction of the beech tree. "Is...is that him?" he asked quietly.

Riza frowned, her gaze following his outstretched arm until it fell on the lump of snow under the beech tree. And all of a sudden, her shivering stopped, and slowly, she stepped towards the tree before breaking into a run and falling to her knees beneath it.

Roy followed her, ignoring the much-too-loud crunching of the snow beneath his feet.

Riza's hand hovered over the patch of fur before she pulled it back to her chest. She was shivering again, although Roy wasn't entirely sure if it was from the cold.

"May I?" asked Roy softly.

Biting her lip, Riza gave him a small nod.

He brushed back at the snow and felt his breath hitch in his throat a second time when Riza let out an anguished sob.

"_Flamel_!" she choked, reaching for the cat's unmoving body and drawing it towards her chest. Her voice was trembling and the grief etched on her features tore at Roy's heart. She buried her head into the cat's frozen fur and hiccoughed, mumbling words Roy couldn't quite hear into the limp body.

"Oh Riza," he murmured, shuffling beside her in the snow, pulling her shivering form into his chest and wrapping his arms around her. "Riza, it's okay..."

"No it's not," he heard her sob. "How can it be?"

She was right. How could it be okay? Roy asked himself – she had lost the only real companion she'd had since her mother had died, and if anything, she was so much more alone now than ever before. But he stopped himself – no, he remembered, no she wasn't. Hadn't he promised her that he'd be 'right here'?

"It's okay," he mumbled again into her hair, "Because I'm here too, remember? I'm here too."

In the crisp stillness of the winter air, Riza's sobs were all that could be heard.


	28. Flamel's Cross

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXVIII**

Drawing his coat tighter around his body, Roy stepped back and examined his handiwork. The mound of earth that was Flamel's grave stood out against the stark white snow under the beech tree, the tombstone a smooth, grey rock on which Roy had etched a serpent surrounded cross. Flamel's Cross. It was fitting, he thought as he stood back and wrapped a comforting arm around Riza's shoulders.

"You... wanna say a few words?" he mumbled to her, rubbing her arm consolingly.

Running the back of her wrist against her eyes, Riza shook her head. She didn't seem to have it in her to speak.

Sighing, Roy cast his gaze at the grave. "Thank you, Flamel," he said sincerely after a moment's pause. "For keeping Riza company all these years, and for all the times you made my efforts count – you were a good cat, and wherever you are now, you'll always be with us." He finished awkwardly, biting his lip and glancing at Riza.

"I..." she began, but she paused and drew a shaky breath, sniffing a little and leaning her head against Roy's arm. "_We'll_ miss you, Flamel," she said finally in a trembling whisper.

Despite himself, Roy gave her a sad smile that he knew she couldn't see and wrapped his other arm around her in warm hug.

"Yeah," he whispered. "We'll miss you."

* * *

Riza said nothing as he led her back inside and left her side to put the kettle on to boil before reaching into the pantry for the hot chocolate and marshmallows he hoped would at least warm her up. The loss that graced her features made his stomach clench – there had to be _something _he could do – _anything_ at all – to make her feel better – but the grief caused by the death of her cat was a hard emotion to top with humour.

He coughed lightly to clear his throat as he dropped a couple of marshmallows into her mug. "Riza?"

She didn't answer.

Sighing, Roy placed her now-steaming mug on the counter and pulled up his counter stool to sit beside her.

"I wish I could fix it," he mumbled, more to himself than to her because he had a feeling that she didn't have it in her to take in anything that was happening in the immediate vicinity. She hadn't touched her mug, after all. "I just – there should be _something _I can do as your friend to make it all better but – " He gave a frustrated grunt and scratched at the back of his head – "I'm so useless..."

"No, you're not."

Roy blinked and turned his eyes towards her. Her mug still stood untouched at the counter and her eyes were still cast at the ground, but she spoke in a low tone that suddenly made her smaller than she really was. How he hated her moments of weakness, Roy thought, because nothing good could come out of a situation that had reduced Riza Hawkeye to tears – and seeing her in so much hurt made him want to throw something at the cause of that pain but, he reminded himself, there were only so many things you could throw at Death.

And then, finally, she reached for her hot chocolate and brought it slowly to her lips. "You're not useless," she mumbled into her cup. She took a breath. "Thank you."

Roy frowned at her. "What for?"

"For – " She paused, and, slowly, she turned her eyes to meet his. "For... being a friend," she answered quietly.

They lapsed into silence again. It seemed that Riza had a number of things she wanted to say but could bring herself to say nothing more while Roy sat feeling at loss for words at being given her thanks for something as small as that.

"I'll miss Flamel," he said finally. "He... he gave pretty good advice."

There was a soft snort from beside him. "He was a cat, Mr. Mustang," Riza mumbled.

"A good cat," said Roy. He raised his mug. "To Flamel."

Riza wiped at her eyes and raised her own. "To Flamel."


	29. Gifts

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXIX**

The loss of her cat resulted in an even quieter, timider Riza. As much as he couldn't blame her, this did not please Roy, especially with Christmas right around the corner. And he _still _didn't know what to get her.

As Roy watched his Sensei pull an assortment of books from the shelves of his study, he tilted his head curiously and sighed. "What do you think Riza wants for Christmas?" he asked absently.

Hawkeye paused, hand half raised to pull another volume down from the shelf before turning his eyes wearily to Roy. "Have you asked her?" he answered finally.

Roy nodded. "It's not like she'd give me a straight answer anyway," he grumbled under his breath as Hawkeye handed him the stack of heavy, dusty volumes. "She's not the kind of person I could just get anything for, either."

"What did you have in mind?" asked Hawkeye-Sensei as he took his seat at his desk.

Shrugging, Roy answered, "That's the thing – I don't know."

Hawkeye-Sensei thought for a moment. He jabbed a finger that stack of books in Roy's arms. "Study the theory in those and we can get onto some simple transmutations in a couple of days." He took a second to pause and turn back to his work. "Her ears are pierced," he said finally.

Roy blinked. "But she doesn't wear – "

"The only pair she has are her mother's old hoops," grumbled Hawkeye. "She doesn't wear them any more because they remind her too much of her, but goodness knows, it'll be good to see her wearing something feminine for once."

"Uh..." began Roy uncertainly, shifting the weight of the books in his arms. "I'm not sure Riza would appreciate jewellery."

"Don't be stupid, Roy," Hawkeye scoffed. "She will if it's from you."

* * *

Roy was reminded bitterly that Flamel was gone that afternoon as he paced the living room floor grumbling quietly to himself. The lack of purring ate at his mind because, when it was there and however condescending the mews would have been, at least he was being listened to.

"She will _hate _me if I get her earrings," he hissed through gritted teeth. "I swear, Hawkeye-Sensei told me that on purpose so that she'll go back to hating me... what the hell..."

It irritated him that there was no sarcastic pur like there should have been. Frustrated, he fell back onto the couch and gave a small grunt of aggravation. "Why does she have to be so difficult?" he asked aloud.

* * *

Riza was stuffing something wrapped in brown paper into her bag when she let herself into the house after school that day. Roy watched her curiously from his place on the couch. "How was school?" he called to her.

Riza paused, a fleeting uncomfortable expression and a dusting of red gracing her features before she offered him a twitch of her lips in greeting. "Same old, same old," she mumbled quietly.

Roy frowned. "You okay?" he asked her.

She blinked. "Yeah," she answered, readjusting the strap of her bag. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Shrugging, Roy answered, "I was just asking." He pulled himself up from the couch and approached her as she shrugged off her coat and stood on her toes to hang it on the coat stand. "What was with the brown paper package then?" he asked suddenly, unable to contain his curiosity.

The dusting of red returned, but Riza recovered quickly and hid it behind a raised eyebrow. "What brown paper package?"

"The thing you were putting into your bag as you walked in," he said pointedly. "What, am I not trusted enough to know?"

Riza took her turn to frown at him and opened her bag to pull out a paper wrapped packet tied together with a piece of twine. "This?" she questioned. "It's for dinner. I stopped by the butcher's on the way back from school."

Roy studied her carefully - there was something nagging at him that told him she was lying, but, after a moment, Riza rolled her eyes and sighed, shoving the package into his hands and sidestepping him to go upstairs. "Leave it on the stove," she called back to him. "I'll be back in a second."

* * *

As she shut the door behind her, Riza breathed a sigh of relief and thanked her conscience profusely for deciding that she needed to buy meat for dinner. Lifting the strap from her shoulder, she placed the bag on her desk and pulled out another paper wrapped package: the one he had actually seen her trying to stuff hurriedly back into her bag.

She unwrapped the paper and studied it carefully. If he was going to insist on getting her something for Christmas, she wasn't about to let him do it without getting something back.

Besides, she thought. She figured it was about time he had his own distinctive mug.


	30. Jewellery and Books

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXX**

Roy found himself wandering around town the next day in the late afternoon. In a jewellery store, no less. Even after he had told himself repeatedly that Riza _would not appreciate it._ He scowled at his reflection in the glass casing at the counter and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat and fiddled with his wallet.

The young, freckly clerk behind the counter watched him, mildly amused. She tossed her hair and leant her arms on the glass casing.

"Looking for something for a special someone?" she asked him with a wink.

"You could say that," mumbled Roy, looking up.

She leant closer to him and gave him a sultry shrug of her shoulders. "I could help you decide over coffee some time," she grinned seductively.

Roy paused and raised an eyebrow at her. He opted for the polite method of refusal. He coughed. "It's an idea," he replied, leaning on the counter as well, "but I'm afraid I'll have to pass."

The girl gave a disturbingly fake giggle. "She'll never have to know..."

"Mm," thought Roy, glancing about the store, "But there's only room for one girl in my heart at a time, you see." He threw her a winning smirk. "Sorry." He shrugged, and lifted a hand to point at a pear of silver studs through the glass. "I'll take those for her though, if you don't mind."

He chose to ignore the scowl that made itself apparent on the clerk's freckled face.

* * *

Box of earrings in his pocket, Roy grimaced. It wasn't as if he _really _thought of Riza like that – he just didn't like the sound of that clerk. Trying to convince him to cheat on Riza, he thought – not that it would have been considered cheating anyway because he didn't _really _think of her like _that_ – how shallow.

Thumbing the box of earrings, Roy came to a halt outside a book shop. Books. Riza liked to read, didn't she? Perhaps he should turn around right now and return the earrings because she really would prefer some reading material over _jewellery _of all things.

He thought of the clerk. Grimacing again, Roy shook his head and sighed before pushing open the bookshop door anyway and stepping inside.

"Well I haven't seen you in here before."

Roy turned. The shopkeeper was a middle aged woman standing on a step ladder with a precarious stack of books in her arms. "Um. Good afternoon," he greeted politely. "I'm... ah – gift shopping, I guess..."

The shopkeeper snorted lightly and shoved the last of her stack of books into a space in the top shelf. "Who for then?" she asked him, dusting her hands on her apron.

"A friend," said Roy with a shrug. "My sensei's daughter."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Your name wouldn't happen to be Mustang, would it?"

Roy blinked. "Um. Yeah," he answered stupidly.

Narrowed eyes glinted and the shopkeeper's lips twitched into a smile. "Riza's in here all the time, you know," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "I've heard about you."

Roy took his turn to snort. "Been laughing about me behind my back, has she?"

The shopkeeper scoffed. "Nonsense," she said, "she's taken quite a liking to you."

Roy laughed. "I'm glad. She was only kind of terrifying when she hated me."

"So I've heard," said the woman kindly. Then she disappeared into a row of shelves and came back with a small leather bound book. "She's a sucker for romance," she said, handing the novel to Roy. "She wouldn't say no to jewellery either."

"Her father's told me," he muttered. "She seems hardly the type to appreciate trivial items like that though."

The shopkeeper rolled her eyes at him. "She reads romance novels, Mr. Mustang," she said shortly. "No matter how much she refuses to acknowledge it, she's still a girl. Not to mention if it's from _you_ in particular, I can guarantee she will."

"What makes you say that?" asked Roy.

The shopkeeper laughed. "You're a smart boy, Mustang," she said. "You figure it out. That'll be 1000 Cenz for the book."

* * *

**I promise this chapter has a point, however pointless it may seem.**


	31. Another Mug

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXXI**

"Don't you want to go and stay with your family for Christmas and New Years?"

Roy looked up from his notebook. Riza was up late again – and on Christmas Eve, no less. She tugged the robe tighter around her pyjamas and stepped lightly down the stairs to join him at the counter. He drew a stool for her and set his pen down on the paper. "I don't really have a family," he answered with a shrug. "I mean sure, the Madame's my foster mother and all but business is booming this time of year and I'd really hate to impose. Besides," he added, "who's going to keep _you _company over Christmas?"

Riza snorted and leant her arms on the counter. "Grandfather usually comes to visit," she said. "I don't see him often because he's busy with working for the military and all that, but he puts in the effort to join us for Christmas. Flamel-" she stopped and shuffled uneasily in her stool. "Flamel... really enjoyed his company."

Roy gave her a sad smile and lifted a hand to rub her shoulder. They lapsed into a comfortable pause, in which Riza swung her legs as they dangled a foot off the ground and Roy picked up his pen and twirled it around in his fingers. Finally, Riza coughed.

"Madame?" she asked him curiously.

"My foster mother," answered Roy. "She owns – ah – a pub, you could say."

"So..." began Riza, "not quite a pub, then."

He snorted. "Not quite, no." Then he paused and leaned an elbow on the counter. "I'd like to meet your granddad," he said. "The military, you say?"

Riza nodded. "Brigadier General," she told him. "He taught me how to shoot."

"His aim must be incredible if he taught _you_," said Roy, remembering all to well how she had never missed when it came to firing projectiles at his head.

The twelve year old gave him a small smile. "He says I'm a natural," she shrugged. "Apparently I live up to my namesake."

"Yeah?" muttered Roy, "Well if it's anything to you, I don't think the bruises on the back of my head will ever go away."

Her laugh was a welcome sound.

* * *

When Roy woke early on Christmas day, he found a mug on his bedside table. A red mug – one that he'd never seen before. Blinking the sleep from his eyes and grumbling as he forced himself to onto his hands and knees, he eyed it suspiciously, from the steam rising from the lip to the bow taped to the body and the name printed in white lettering on the handle.

_His_ name.

It took a moment for it all to sink in. Slowly, he dragged himself out of bed and examined the steaming red mug. There was a note resting underneath it in Riza Hawkeye's neat, unmistakable hand:

_Happy Christmas, Mr. Mustang._

Roy blinked. And then he laughed. Pulling at the robe hanging on his chair and wrenching open his bedside drawer, he fished out the two gift wrapped packages he had bought in town, tucked them under his arm and seized the mug – _his _mug – before strolling into the chilly hallway grinning proudly at Riza's gift.

* * *

He was hardly surprised to find her huddled under a pile of blankets supposedly still asleep. He set the mug on her desk and took a seat at her bedside.

"I like the mug," he said plainly, unable to wipe the grin from his face.

The pile of blankets shifted, and a mussed mop of blonde hair appeared from under them. She blinked at him blearily. "I thought you would," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. There was no mistaking the dusting of red on her cheeks though. Roy caught it and fought the urge to raise an eyebrow.

"Thank you," he beamed at her. "Coming from you, it's... it's really quite special."

Riza looked away, her cheeks darkening. "You deserve it," she muttered, "After all you've done, y'know?"

Roy threw a glance at the two packages on her desk and weighed his options. He hesitated a little as he reached for them, aiming for the larger package – the book – but changed his mind at the last minute and took, instead, the little wrapped box.

"Here."

Riza blinked at him, the pause in between stretching the longest five seconds Roy had ever lived through in his life, before her arm appeared from under the covers and her fingers wrapped around the small box.

She sat up, peeling the wrappings from it and snapping it open.

Roy watched her eyes widen and waited with baited breath. There was still the book if this failed completely, he reminded himself, bracing himself for whatever would happen.

"You – you got me earrings," she mumbled almost breathless.

He shrugged. They were only a pair of simple, silver studs that he thought would have suited her nicely in all their simplicity. "I thought they would look nice on you," he muttered, looking away. "I can have them swapped for you if you don't like them..."

Riza was staring at them in awe. "You got me _earrings_," she said again, turning her eyes to him, her lips cracking into a smile. "They're... _thank you_."

Roy grinned back, thoroughly relieved. Her father and the shopkeeper were right after all. And just as he opened his mouth to wish her a happy Christmas, there was a knocking downstairs.

Riza frowned, jumping out of bed to hurry to the window. "Grandfather's here."


	32. Her Grandfather

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXXII**

"Hello, Riza," the old man said, arms wide open and a warm smile gracing his face.

"Hi Grandfather," she mumbled, giving him a small smile and allowing him to pull her into a hug. "How was your trip?"

The man laughed and patted his granddaughter's shoulder lightly. "Come now, my dear, there's no need to be so formal. A general I am, but you are still my favourite grandchild!"

Riza chuckled a little and pried herself out of his arms. "I'm your _only _grandchild, Grandpa," she said pointedly, stepping back and beckoning Roy forward. Vaguely, he wondered if the old man found it odd to be greeted by two kids in their pyjamas. He shrugged it off and stepped towards the doorway.

"Oh?" said Riza's grandfather curiously and raising an eyebrow at Mustang. "And who might this be?"

Roy gave him a queasy-looking smile. "Roy Mustang, sir," he said, extending a hand. "I'm Master Hawkeye's apprentice. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Ah," the old man said, giving him a friendly smile. "I've heard about you. You must be a good apprentice as Riza's taken a liking to you." (Out of the corner of his eye, Roy saw Riza hide a blush). "Eli Grumman," he offered, shaking Roy's extended hand. "The pleasure's all mine."

* * *

"I see you've taken good care of her," said Grumman, as Roy helped him carry his bags into one of the spare bedrooms. Riza had started on brunch downstairs, and as Roy pushed open the door to the bedroom next to his, he raised an eyebrow at the old man.

"Sir?" he asked, puzzled.

Grumman scoffed knowingly. "I'm not here very often," answered the General, dropping his suit case at the foot of his bed. "My son in law disapproves of the military – he's – ah – much _moodier _whenever I'm here to visit – "

Roy coughed. Hawkeye-Sensei mood_ier_? That was even possible?

The old man chuckled at Roy's expression. "Her father's not a fan of me," he told him, drifting off topic.

"But..." began Roy, frowning. "Ages ago he left for a couple of weeks because you needed him or something..."

"Me?" asked Grumman, blinking. "No, that would have been Riza's _other _grandfather. Berthold's father."

"Ah." Roy made a noise of assent and nodded. "Er. You were saying?"

Grumman thought for a moment. "Ah," he said. "Yes. My point was that Riza just seems _happier_ than the last time I saw her. And the only difference between then and now, would be you, Mr. Mustang."

Roy stared at him, a little uncertain of what to say. "You... give me a bit much credit," he said finally. "I can't say I've – well 'taken care of her', as you say, General," he continued, shrugging his shoulders awkwardly. "I mean, she's more than capable of looking after herself and it's not like I've really done anything – "

"You say that," said Grumman, stepping out of the bedroom. "But you know, there's no mistaking the fact that she hasn't found a way to get rid of you."

Scoffing, Roy followed him and shut the door behind them. "Believe me, sir, she tried at first."

"But that's the point, isn't it?" asked Grumman, his eyes twinkling. "She's not trying to get rid of you _anymore_. As a matter of fact, I'd say it looks like the reason she's happy now is _because _you're still around."

"I wouldn't say that," said Roy modestly as they both made their past Riza's open bedroom door and back downstairs.

But Grumman smirked at him and winked. "Bet you the earrings she left on her desk that _she _would."

* * *

Berthold didn't look up when he heard his daughter knocking at his study door. "Your grandfather's here, isn't he?"

Riza bit her lip and stepped cautiously around the mess of books and paper that littered the dusty, carpeted floor. "Yes," she mumbled, sounding uneasy. She cleared her throat. "Will – will you be joining us for Christmas lunch or dinner at all?"

Hawkeye grunted. His daughter sighed and lifted a small hand to rest on his crouched shoulder. "He means well, dad. He just wants us to have a little more company..."

Hawkeye grunted again. "No military dog means well, Riza," he grumbled. He sighed. "Go," he said, looking up finally, moving his much bigger hand to ruffle her hair a little and pull her close to place the first, fatherly kiss he'd ever given her on her forehead. "Happy Christmas, my dear," he muttered. "My presence at the table will only bring the worst out of me."

"You really should – "

"No," said Hawkeye. "I'll stay here. Tell Roy he has the rest of week off."

Riza gave him a sad smile. "Sure, dad."

* * *

**First: I'm sorry this is late. I had two weeks of exams, and unfortunately, I wanted to pass .**

**Second: I feel the need to justify Riza's dad (this justification is also late, but whatev.) A lot of people think he was this cruel bastard who didn't give a crap for his daughter and only used her as a host to hold his alchemical secrets. Personally, I just think that he's a dad who just doesn't know what he's doing (more on this eventually). He means well. He's trying – but he just has no clue. Papa Hawkeye bashing makes complete sense. I just wanted to see if portraying him in a different, less cruel light works just as well.**


	33. Woes of the Father

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXXIII**

Christmas dinner wasn't as cheerful an affair as Roy expected it to be. Riza's cooking – usually delicious – was better than usual and her grandfather's presence was welcoming as he spent a good portion of dinner telling Roy about the military's State Alchemy program and attempting to convince Riza to come and visit him some time. The atmosphere was by all means friendly, but Roy couldn't miss the way Riza spent prolonged amounts of time picking sadly at her food.

When her grandfather excused himself from the table to use the bathroom, he coughed. "Riza? You okay?"

She looked up and gave him a puzzled stare. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?" she answered quickly, shovelling a forkful of mashed potatoes in her mouth.

Roy raised an eyebrow at her.

She stared back. "What?"

Roy's expression remained unchanged. She couldn't fool him – she had to know that by now – and, finally, Riza sighed.

"Dad gets worrying this time of year," she mumbled shortly, turning her eyes back to her food and fiddling with her fork.

When she didn't elaborate, Roy tilted his head to the side and blinked at her. "More so than usual?"

Riza shot him an unamused glare. "Don't joke about that, Mr. Mustang," she muttered darkly, pushing her plate away from her and getting up from the table. "I'm tired," she added. "I'm going to bed." She left without so much as another word.

Roy stared after her, brow furrowed half way between concern and confusion and failed to notice Grumman reappear from down the hall. The old man cleared his throat.

"I would advise seeing to her father," said Grumman. "I'd do so myself but we all know he doesn't like me much."

"Sir?" Roy questioned getting up from the table.

Taking the glasses from his eyes, Grumman pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and began to polish the lens, turning his gaze away from Roy. "Christmas time isn't a happy time for the two of them. I had hoped that this year it would be different, with your presence and seeing that Riza looks her age again, but there are some things that just can't be changed." He jerked his head towards the hall towards Hawkeye's study. "I'll clear the table up. See to Berthold."

* * *

His sensei was nothing short of completely inebriated. The empty bottle of scotch in his hand was more than enough of a clue. Roy knocked cautiously at the study door. "...Sensei...?"

Hawkeye grunted. Roy took it as permission to enter the darker-than-usual study. "Is everything alright?"

There was a second grunt and Hawkeye turned his head slowly to face Roy. His eyes were red and drowsy from the excess alcohol, his gaunt face much paler than he'd ever seen it in the dim, yellowish light of the desk lamp. Hawkeye turned back to his desk and lifted the empty bottle to his lips.

Biting his lip, Roy took the bottle from his teacher's hand and placed it back on the table. "I think you've had enough, Sensei," he muttered, pulling at a second chair from beside the desk and taking a seat next to the man. There was an old photograph in Berthold's other hand that Roy had failed to notice, and the older man, catching the younger staring curiously at it, offered it drunkenly to him.

It was a black and white image of a woman, but Roy didn't need to be told who it was. There was only one other person he'd seen with eyes like _that_.

There was a third grunt, and Hawkeye took the photograph from him again. "Why does she have to look so much like her...?" he whispered hoarsely.

Roy said nothing, and Hawkeye took his cue to continue. "She died so long ago," he muttered. "Just collapsed one day from a fever – like you did – but she never got back up." He paused and drew a ragged breath. "I... was going to bring her back..." he continued. "But her grandfather wouldn't let me. Warned the townspeople not to sell me anything that could be used for a human body. They still refuse to sell me anything – just in case – it's why Riza does all the groceries." He pounded his fist on the table and Roy jumped backwards in his seat a little. "Stupid man," he grumbled. "He says the army made human transmutation illegal. The army's the reason I can't bring back my wife..."

"It's forbidden for a reason, Sensei, you know that," said Roy softly.

"I don't _care_," snapped Hawkeye. "I'm a horrible father, Roy – Riza needs her mother and I owe it to her to try. I _know _how to do it. My theory is perfect. I don't know how else to look after her – she _needs_ her mother."

"She needs her _dad_," muttered Roy. "You're all she has left, not counting her grandfather and you're too busy perfecting your alchemy to be one."

Hawkeye scowled and waved a hand at him. "Go," he snarled, pointing him out. "Get out."

Roy gave a heavy sigh and stood from the chair. "I apologise, Sensei," he mumbled, and he turned to leave. But as he reached the doorway, he heard his teacher call at him.

"Take care of her, will you?" Berthold grumbled quietly. "Better than I took care of Elizabeth..."

Roy paused and looked back at him. "I – of course, sensei. Good evening."

And even the click of the door snapping shut behind him sounded tired. So much for a happy Christmas.

* * *

**So much for a happy Christmas indeed.  
**

**I'm thinking of writing some musician!Royai. Anyone willing to read it if I get around to it?**


	34. The Rifle

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXXIV**

Roy woke on Boxing Day morning to the sound of gunshots in the garden.

By the time he had actually _realised _they were gunshots, he had fallen out of bed and taken cover underneath the window sill, and despite himself, he rubbed a wrist on against the fogged up window and peered through the layer of snow to find Riza wrapped snugly in her coat and scarf with a rifle in hand.

And there he thought Riza with a slingshot was terrifying. Riza with a rifle sent him into an entirely new _realm_ of fear.

* * *

"Your aim's as superb as usual," said Grumman knowledgeably, examining the row of targets hanging from the branch of the beech tree. He took care to make sure he didn't step on Flamel's grave.

Riza lowered the rifle and sighed softly, watching the light fog of her breath unfurl before her. Leaving Mr. Mustang at the table before he had finished Christmas dinner, of all things, tore miserably at her conscience. The frustration and guilt that plagued her mind over night had stuck with her, even now as she tried to take it out on her grandfather's rifle.

"What's wrong, Riza?" asked Grumman, when she said nothing.

She looked up at her grandfather. "Nothing," she mumbled, shaking her head. "It's nothing." She reached into the box of rifle rounds beside her and began to reload. "I just... have a lot on my mind, is all," she muttered, raising the rifle again.

Grumman stepped out of the way and came to stand beside her as she took aim and fired, severing the braid of twine that hung the target to the beech tree branch. "It's not healthy to keep things bottled up, dear," said her grandfather as she took aim at the second target.

Riza grimaced a little before squeezing the trigger and watching the second target fall to the ground. "I'm fine, Grandpa," she murmured. "I can handle it on my own."

Beside her, Grumman sighed and shoved his hands into his coat pocket. "If you say so, my dear," he said, raising a hand to her shoulder. "I'm going to go back inside, alright? Would you like me to bring you some hot chocolate?"

"No thanks, Grandpa," she answered, firing at the third.

Grumman shrugged and turned to leave. "Your loss, dear," he said.

When the crunching of the snow beneath Grumman's boots had ceased to indicate that he had gone back inside, Riza lowered the rifle again and collapsed backwards into the snow. Staring blankly up at the deep grey winter sky, she blew at the bangs that dusted her forehead and sighed again.

"You're going to freeze," called another voice from the porch.

She turned her head a little and sat up. Roy looked at her hesitantly, mugs of hot chocolate and what looked like an extra blanket in hand.

"Hello," she greeted him awkwardly.

He looked nervous. "Can I join you?" he asked her.

Riza blinked. "Of course," she said. "Why shouldn't you?"

Roy offered her a sheepish grin. "You have a gun," he stated plainly, approaching her and draping the blanket over her shoulders before handing her mug to her. "It's – ah – considerably scarier than your slingshot."

Despite herself, Riza cracked a smile. Then, tugging the blanket around her features and looking away from him, she sighed a third time. "I'm sorry about last night," she mumbled.

Roy chuckled and took a seat beside her. "Don't worry about it," he told her, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I'd be snippy too if I were worried about my dad." He nodded at the fallen targets underneath the beech tree. "I see what you meant by living up to your name."

Riza shrugged. "It's not exactly useful for much other than shooting at things."

There was a pause, and then, hesitantly, Roy hazarded: "You haven't... thought of joining the military, have you?"

Riza shook her head at him. "Dad hates the military," she said shortly. "And I don't really wanna shoot _people, _Mr. Mustang."

Roy gave a visible sigh of relief. "Good," he mumbled. "I don't really want to see you shooting people either, you know?"

"You've thought of enlisting, haven't you?" she queried.

Roy nodded. "After your granddad mentioned it at dinner last night. Alchemy's for the people, right? I figure joining the military and trying out for State Alchemist might help me along the way."

"You'd have to leave," said Riza quietly.

"Not for a while," reassured Roy. "You have to be eighteen to enlist, and that's not for a couple of years. I've a long way to go with the alchemy anyway – your dad's only taught me the basics so far."

Riza didn't look appeased. Instead, she stared down at her hot chocolate with a small frown etched into her brow and didn't look up again, even when Roy wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder.

"You trust me, don't you, Riza?" he asked her.

Riza paused, and then, after a moment, she nodded. "Yes."

Roy gave her a small smile. "Trust in what I promised you, ages and ages ago," he whispered to her, "about how I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

In the silence of the winter morning, Riza lifted the mug to her lips and leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. "I know," she mumbled.

The rifle lay forgotten in the snow.

* * *

From the bench on the porch, Grumman smiled into his own mug and stood to move quietly back into the house.


	35. Transparent

**For Shaneli, reviewer number 300.

* * *

**

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXXV**

They saw General Grumman off at the Station on the afternoon of New Years Eve. Sky still a deep, murky grey, Roy scowled at nothing in particular and pulled his coat tighter around his body. Riza stood next to him, shivering a little under her coat and scarf but wrapped in her grandfather's arms as she bid him farewell.

"You should visit your dear old granddad sometime soon," Grumman said to her as she pulled backwards. "Your grandmother and I would love to have you."

Riza shrugged a little. "Someone has to take care of father," she murmured.

Grumman chuckled. "Someone has to indeed." He paused and glanced at Roy. "You could always leave it to Roy, over here."

"Hm," said Riza, shrugging again and studied Roy. "I'm not saying that I don't trust him with the job..." she began, before she turned back to her grandfather and folded her arms across her chest, "but I don't trust him with the job."

Roy scowled at her. "That burns, Riza," he whined, pouting at her.

Riza snorted into her scarf and gave him punched him playfully in the arm. "You want me to lie?"

Glaring at her, Roy opened his mouth to retort but Grumman, sniggering into that moustache of his, held up his hands and stepped between them. "Now, now, children," he chided, "you were so well behaved while I was here – don't let it go to waste." Then he held out his hand towards Roy. "It's been a pleasure, Roy."

Shooting Riza a wounded glare over her grandfather's shoulder, Roy turned his eyes towards Grumman and allowed himself to offer the old man a smile. "It was nice meeting you, General," he said politely, inclining his head a little.

From further up the platform, a train whistle blew and Grumman released Roy's hand and tipped his hat at both of them. Vaguely, Roy noted that there was something in his hand that wasn't there before. He frowned curiously at the General, but he had already reached for his suitcase and stepped onto the train.

"Watch each other's back, you two," he said cheerfully, waving at them. "I'll see you both next Christmas!"

Riza raised a hand and waved to her grandfather as the train began to move. "Bye, Grandpa!" she called over the heavy chugging of the wheels.

Roy shoved whatever it was the General had left him into his pocket and waved his other hand in farewell. And then, they watched, as the train chugged off into the snowy distance – going... going... and then it was gone, leaving them quite alone on the quiet, emptying platform.

* * *

It was a card. Or it felt like one, at least, thought Roy, as he thumbed Grumman's parting gift to him in his pocket. He had a feeling that if the General hadn't allowed Riza to see what it was he had handed to him on the platform, then there was no reason he should have bothered her with it. Instead, his left hand came to rest on Riza's shoulder as he steered her out of the train station and through the ankle deep snow and back to her father's estate.

When they arrived back at her house, she shook the dampness out of her hair and threw her coat over the coat stand before busying herself with the kettle. Slipping the card from his coat pocket, Roy meandered over to the fireplace reached for the matches that lay on the hearth. When he was sure Riza wasn't looking, he took a moment to let his eyes skim over it.

_Try not to hurt my precious granddaughter, _it said_. I'll have to kill you if you do._

Roy choked on his own spit.

Riza stepped out of the kitchen and raised a concerned eyebrow at him. "What's wrong?"

He coughed and turned to her. "I never pegged your grandpa as the overprotective type," he told her weakly.

Riza frowned. "Odd," she said. "Neither did I. What makes you say that?"

Trying to ignore the implications of her grandfather's note, Roy threw the card into the fire and forced down the colour rising to his face. "Nothing," he said, giving her what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug. "Nothing at all."

* * *

**Bet you thought that note would be important /snigger/ Cuz Grumman can see riiiiight through both Roy and Riza. Typical Didn't-See-That-Coming Grumman.**

**I'm sorry it's so late! I really have no excuses this time – I wasn't even studying. I'M SORRY.**


	36. A Letter

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXXVI**

Roy received a letter in the mail two days after New Years. Like all the letters he had received from his foster mother, it bore similar motherly messages: _How are you? Keep yourself warm. Keep your room clean – Lord knows, Riza shouldn't have to tidy up after you too_...

But this time, his mother had written something else:

_Where were you during Christmas and New Years, Roy-boy? Were you not going to visit your mother or your sisters? Come and visit us in a couple of months so you can at least be here for your birthday._

All in all, this sounded like an excellent idea. It had been nearly a year since he'd last seen his mother and sisters, and he _should_ visit them for his birthday at least. Which only left one problem: Riza was as close a sister as his other sisters, if not closer.

And he had promised not to leave her in solitude for prolonged amounts of time.

And there was no way in all hell her father would let her go to _Central_ with _him_.

Roy bit his lip.

Hm.

* * *

"Ready to resume lessons, are we?"

Hawkeye-sensei looked at him wearily through the dim light of his study. His features seemed to have grown skeletal over Christmas and New Years, and Roy raised a disconcerted eyebrow at him. "Good evening," he greeted awkwardly, pulling at the ends of his shirt. "You look tired, Sensei."

He shrugged and said nothing.

"Perhaps..." Roy began, scratching at the back of his neck. "Perhaps you should take some time off research and... I dunno, spend some time with Riza? Relax, you know?"

Hawkeye scoffed mildly. "My research is complete," he said quietly.

"All the more time to spend with Riza," said Roy in a sad attempt to be cheerful.

Hawkeye cast him a glance so very like his daughter's in the way that it told him to shut up before he humiliated himself. Roy opened his mouth and closed it again. Twice. The pause between them growing more uncomfortable by the second.

Finally Hawkeye-sensei rolled his eyes. "You're going out of town, aren't you?"

Roy winced. "...Yeah..." he muttered, looking away.

"When?"

"Not for a couple of months," answered Roy, twiddling his thumbs to avoid having to look at his teacher. "I thought I should let you know in advance. I figure I should pay my foster mother a visit sometime soon."

Hawkeye grunted. "Is Chris well?"

Roy shrugged. "I'm waiting on her next letter, but she seems well. But... you know..."

Hawkeye waved him off. "Do you want to take her with you?"

"I – sorry?"

Hawkeye rolled his eyes at him a second time, and pushed himself off the chair to face his student. He cast a thoughtful glance at his hands for a moment before he gave a small sigh and looked up again. "Would you like to take Riza with you?"

Roy's eyes widened. "Y-you'd let me do that?"

The older man gave a shrug. "As I understand it, the two of you have come to be almost-siblings, and I take it that the reason you were asking me to spend more time with her is because you don't want to leave her here alone. Am I wrong?"

Roy shook his head. "But... take her with me? Are you sure?"

"Do you not want to?"

"No, no – nothing like that," said Roy. "I just thought... that you would never agree to something like that, is all..."

Hawkeye shrugged. "She's never been out of town before," he told him gruffly. "I think she'd be happier if she went with you than stayed here with me. I trust you'll look after her."

Roy couldn't help the grin that reached his face. "Of course, Sensei," he said, almost too enthusiastically.

"Make sure she has her own room," said Hawkeye. "That's all. Now will we be resuming lessons today or not?"

Roy was sure that he'd never had a stupider grin attach itself to his face.

* * *

**Super late update. Yeah. I know. In my defense, I was graduating. So there :P**


	37. Doubts

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXXVII**

"Hey, Riza!"

The pure, unfiltered enthusiasm that emanated from Mustang as he bounded out of her father's study that day almost made her drop the tray of food she was about to deliver for lunch. She would have called the grin infectious if she hadn't been certifiably creeped-out by it.

"Mr. Mustang...?" she queried almost cautiously, fighting the urge to back away. "Is everything oka-?"

"You wanna come to Central with me?"

She stared at him.

He stared back, beaming at her in the same excited manner she expected from a five year old, and Riza found herself wondering for a moment which one of them was _really _the younger. She readjusted her grip on the tray.

"Er..." she began. "I don't think Father would appr-"

Mustang waved a dismissive hand at her and took the tray from her arms. "I've already asked him," he said shortly, still beaming.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

He rolled his eyes at her in the way that sort of demanded why she didn't find it as exciting as he did. "Mom says I have to visit her in a couple of months," he explained to her, sounding as if the explanation wasn't needed at all. "So I asked your dad if I could take you with me."

"Really?" said Riza, snorting in disbelief.

Mustang nodded. "Really," he confirmed. "Actually, your dad saw it coming and _he _asked so that I didn't have to."

Riza snorted again and took the tray back for him. "Now I _know _you're just messing with me." She edged past him and continued down the hall.

"He said yes," called Roy after her.

"No, he didn't," she called back, casting a glance at him over her shoulder and pushing the study door open with her hip. "You're just – " she stopped when she felt the tray press into something distinctly human-feeling. She looked up.

"Oh," she said. "Hi Dad. Lunch?"

Berthold looked down at his daughter curiously and took the tray from her. He coughed. "Roy wants to take you to Central," he told her.

"So he says," she said.

"Would you like to go?"

It took a moment for Riza to register the question, and by the time that she did, she found herself eternally thankful that her father had taken the tray from her. Her hands dropped to her sides and her jaw seemed to have disconnected itself from her brain as she gaped open-mouthed at the usually severe man.

There was a pause.

From behind her, Mustang coughed. "Told you so."

* * *

Having started them early, Roy's lessons finished early that day and when he entered the living room, he found Riza curled up on the couch staring blankly into the novel he'd given her for Christmas.

She glanced at him as he approached and placed the book down beside her. The staring competition that ensued was unnerving, especially because she was looking at him as if he'd done something sneaky. Finally, she coughed. "Can I ask what you put into my dad's tea?"

Roy looked at her oddly. Then, when he realised what she was talking about, he laughed a little and sat down beside her. "For the record," he began, propping his feet up on the coffee table, "I didn't think he'd agree to it at all. I almost didn't bother asking and tried to talk him into spending more time with you instead."

Riza raised an eyebrow at him. "What'd he say?"

Roy scoffed. "He saw right through it and cut to the chase. He asked me if I wanted to take you with me."

"Hm," said Riza, looking away.

Roy frowned at her. Equivalent exchange and all, if she could read him like an open book, then it was only fair that he had a radar to detect whenever something was awry. "What's wrong?" he asked her.

She shrugged at him. "It'll sound really weird if I tell you," she answered.

Inwardly, Roy congratulated himself for reaching a point where Riza no longer denied anything was wrong to him. "Try me."

She blew a soft sigh. "It just seems so out of the ordinary, you know? I didn't think dad would approve at all. It's like he wants to get rid of me or something..."

The frown on Roy's face softened a little and he chuckled, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I think your dad was more worried that things would go back to the way they were before you took me in. He likes it that you call him 'dad' now – he just wants you to be as happy as you have been lately. And leaving you here all by your lonesome again wouldn't make you happy, would it?"

Riza cocked her head at him. "Did he tell you that?"

Roy chuckled again. "No," he said, grinning and tapping his temple. "I just know these things." He caught the disapproving frown on her face and coughed. "Alright, for real: he said 'I think she'd be happier if she went with you than if she stayed here with me.' Now, would you be?"

She looked at him oddly, before turning her eyes away and snorting lightly into her sleeve. "I've never been out of town before," she mused.

Roy nodded knowledgably. "Yeah, he said that too. You wanna see what it's like?"

She offered him a small smile. "Yeah," she mumbled. "Why not?"

Roy beamed at her. "I guess that means I should write back to mom, huh?"

She giggled. "Might be a good idea."


	38. Killing Time: A Threat

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXXVIII**

Letter bearing his response to his mother written and folded neatly on his desk, Roy sat back on his chair and stretched his arms over his head. Broad grin still on his face, it irked him a little that he was more excited about bringing Riza with him to Central than Riza was. If he could convince Hawkeye-sensei to let him have tomorrow morning off, perhaps he should bring her with him to post his reply too – to help let the news really sink in.

_Knock-knock_.

Roy looked up. Riza stood at his bedroom door, balancing a dinner tray with their distinctive mugs of hot chocolate in one hand. She gave him a small smile.

"Good evening," she greeted.

He patted the bed and motioned for her to come in and sit down. "Why so shy sounding?" he asked her.

Riza shrugged a little. "I just realised that you're taking me to Central."

Roy raised an eyebrow at her.

She handed him his mug. "As in," she began, casting her eyes around his room and wrinkling her nose a little at the pile of dirty laundry in the corner. "It only just hit me." She pursed her lips and looked at him oddly. "Also your room is a mess, Mr. Mustang. I just thought you'd like to know."

He scowled at her and took a long draught from his mug. "I'd think twice about insulting me," he said pointedly, "I _am _taking you to Central, you know."

"It's not an insult if it's true," said Riza, raising her own mug to her lips. "And you'd take me anyway, even if I did."

Roy pouted at her. "That's not the – " he glared at her and huffed into his hot chocolate. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Riza trying to stifle the giggle that threatened to escape her lips and he sighed as he felt the brunt of his indignation dissipate. "Are you excited?" he asked her finally, placing his mug on his desk.

Riza shrugged at him. "I suppose the excitement will come as the time comes closer. I mean, we still have two months to kill so..."

"Hm. That's true," said Roy, nodding a little. "What are we going to _do _for the next two months?"

Riza shrugged a second time. "We'll think of something."

* * *

The next morning, Roy received the biggest shock of his life so far when he found Hawkeye-Sensei knocking at his bedroom door.

"Haekeye-Sensei!" he yelped, drowsiness gone in an instant and falling out of bed. He winced and took a moment to compose himself. "Uh... come in?"

Hawkeye grunted and glanced wearily around the room. "You'll be cleaning this pigsty up before you go to town today, I trust?" he questioned – although, if Roy were honest, it sounded more like an order. Trust her father to be the only one more terrifying than Riza herself when it came to getting him to do things.

"Uh," he sputtered, more because he was still stunned at Hawkeye-Sensei's presence _outside _his study than because he was hesitant about tidying up. "Of course, Sensei," he finally forced himself to say. "But... I have a feeling that the state of my bedroom isn't the reason you're here this morning..."

Hawkeye grunted again. "I want to thank you, Roy," he said quietly. "For everything you've done for Riza."

"Uh." Roy found himself gaping again. "You're... you're welcome, I guess," he managed. "Anytime. I mean, really, Riza's a good kid and she's really grown on me so – "

The older man held up a hand. "That said, I'm giving you one warning."

Roy paled. "Eh?"

"Having seen the way you interact with each other, and how much she trusts you and how well you look after her, I think that you are the least likely person to let her get hurt," said Hawkeye matter-of-factly. "Now, I may not be the best father, but I am her father nonetheless."

He paused. Roy thought he did it for dramatic emphasis, because it was working. _Well_.

"You know the power of my alchemy, Roy," said Hawkeye finally, readjusting his grip on his cane. His tone was low and threatening, and the teenager gulped involuntarily. "She trusts you more than anyone else. I think you know what will happen if you betray that trust."

To his horror, Roy's voice came out rather strangled and high pitched. "Yes, Sensei," he squeaked. He coughed. "I'll – ahem – keep that in mind."

* * *

"You look jumpy, Mister Mustang," said Riza casually, shovelling a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. "Is everything okay?"

Roy gave her a sheepish grin and scratched at the back of his head. "Your dad's scary," he said, sounding embarrassed.

Riza raised an eyebrow at him. "...Did you only just realise this _now_?"

Roy shook his head and hid his expression behind his mug as he brought it to his lips. "No," he mumbled into his cup. _It's just that all your relatives have started threatening me and one of them is a General and the other one could incinerate me without thinking too hard about it._

"Mister Mustang?"

Roy looked up. "Don't worry about it," he said, voice on the verge of squeaking. "It's nothing."


	39. Killing Time: The Girls in Town

**Hot Chocolate**

**XXXIX**

One Sunday morning, as he stumbled down the stairs rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Roy found Riza wrinkling her nose at the open pantry. By now, she must have developed some sort sixth sense that alerted her of his presence because she didn't even bother looking his way when she greeted him good morning.

"I'm getting slack," she told him absently. "I haven't done the groceries properly in a little while."

Roy stifled a yawn. "What are we short on?" he asked, moving to stand behind her and glancing into the pantry himself.

Riza huffed and reached to close the pantry doors. "Everything," she muttered matter-of-factly.

"Oh." He scratched his head. "So... you're going to town later today?"

Clearly she had developed the ability to read his mind as well, because she picked at the last of the bread and reached for the emptying jar of jam before answering, "You can't come with me if you have lessons today."

Roy frowned at her. "I can't very well let you wander into town by yourself, though."

Riza paused and raised an eyebrow at him. "Try again."

"Do you not want me to come?" he asked her, looking wounded.

Riza snorted. "Don't give me that." She dropped a slice of bread onto a plate and handed it to him before sliding the butter knife and jam across the counter towards him. "If dad lets you, then you can come."

* * *

Two hours later, Roy grimaced at her under the weight of the three full paper bags he had pressed to his chest while she paid for a bag of apples at the fruit market in town.

"I said I wanted to come, not hold all your groceries for you," he grumbled, readjusting his grip on the third.

Riza snorted, tucking the change into her wallet and reaching to add the apples to the paper bag with the least in it. "And what kind of gentleman would you be if you let me carry all those heavy groceries by myself?"

"You're not that much of a refined lady yourself, you know," he pouted.

"I'm twelve, Mister Mustang," she said with a smirk. "Besides, dad gave you half a day off so you could help me out. And you get to help me out by carrying all my stuff."

Roy groaned. Hawkeye-Sensei had been decidedly more lenient lately – only, it came with the price of being Riza's personal lapdog. He supposed Hawkeye-Sensei was just sick of being badgered about beginning Flame Alchemy. So far, all he had been taught were simple transmutations – who could really blame him for being impatient? Between the complicated arrays and Riza though, he knew which option he preferred. He just wished it involved less heavy lifting and more _actual_ hanging out.

"Can we get lunch now at least? I'm _starving_."

Riza rolled her eyes at him. "We're on a pretty strict budget, Mister Mustang."

"Yeah, but I'm paying for it," he said, peering at her over the top of the paper bags. "It's been ages since I've shouted you lunch anyway."

The twelve year old jerked her head back to look at him so fast, he was surprised she didn't hurt her neck. "Oh – no, it's okay – you don't have to spend money on me – "

Roy took his turn to roll his eyes. "Shush," he told her, moving in the direction of a nearby cafe. "You don't get a say in this." He drew a chair with his foot from one of the outdoor tables and nodded at it. "Sit."

He ignored scowl that made itself apparent on her face.

* * *

"Anyway, I would have thought – "

"_Riza_?"

Riza coughed and looked up.

There were two girls sitting at the next table, both not much older than her, with their eyes wide and forks of pastry halfway towards their mouth. The second was glancing from her to Roy and back again with an expression of shock.

"Er... hi," greeted Riza awkwardly.

Roy raised an eyebrow at her. "You know them?"

Riza grimaced. "They're some of the more popular girls from school," she muttered.

"We've never seen you out before," said the first.

"We've never seen you with a _boy_ before," said the second, eyeing Roy curiously. "Who is he?" she asked, giving him a _look_. There was no missing the flirty wink. "Want to join us, Mister...?"

Roy glanced at Riza. It seemed, from the scowl on her face, that she wasn't even trying to hide her dislike for these girls. He coughed and chose this point to intervene. Time for all the moves he'd learned from the men at his foster mother's bar to pay off.

"Roy Mustang," he said brightly, holding out a hand for the girls to shake. "And I'm going to have to decline the offer. Can't exactly leave my girlfriend here alone, can I?"

He chose to ignore the clatter that resounded when Riza dropped her fork in sync with the jaws of the girls from the next table. He probably should have warned her, he thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her face turn a shade that would rival the tomatoes she grew in the back garden of her house.

"But – she – she's so _boyish_!" sputtered the first.

"She's not even that pretty!" the other choked.

Roy turned his gaze to Riza, who had hidden her face with her hand, and then back again. "You're right," he said with a grin. "She's _gorgeous_. Much prettier than all the other girls in this town."

In the moment of silence before the girls got up and stormed away from the cafe looking scandalised, Roy decided that he must have overdone it or something, because he'd never seen a pair of girls look so insulted when being turned down.

"You were saying, Riza?"

She stared at him, mouth agape. "Please don't ever do that again."

Roy sniggered, and signalled the waiter for the bill. "At least it got rid of them," he said matter-of-factly. "Besides, it's true. You _are _the prettiest girl in town."

He had no idea Riza could turn that shade of red.

* * *

**This feels so disgustingly out of character now that I'm going to have to pull some serious angst a few chapters from now.**

**In my defence... they're still kids? They have 15 years before they reach the characters we meet in the manga, and there's Ishbal and all that in between so... yeah?  
**


	40. Killing Time: Shattered

**Hot Chocolate**

**XL**

"You've progressed," said Hawkeye-Sensei one afternoon.

Roy looked over his shoulder hopefully and could have sworn he caught a nod of approval from his usually strict teacher. "Sensei?"

The older man jerked his head at the array under Roy's fingertips. Roy looked back down at it. He'd spent an indecent amount of time perfecting the details and checking and double checking that he had used the correct symbols. Hawkeye was a hard man to please, but after this particular masterpiece, he'd better be getting some damn credit.

"This symbol," said Hawkeye, tapping at the edge of the circle, "is incorrect." (Inwardly, Roy scowled). "But I'm impressed. Very impressed."

Roy raised his eyebrows at his Sensei and fought the urge to grin like an idiot. "Really?"

Hawkeye cast him a stern look and raised an eyebrow. "There's very little to be excited about, Roy." He pointed over at a stack of brick-like textbooks in the corner of his overstuffed bookshelf. "Those are now at your disposal," said Hawkeye. "Let's see what you make of them."

"I'm... not sure I follow, Sensei," said Roy slowly.

Hawkeye scoffed. "You have until three days from now to research or practise. I want to see you perform a worthwhile transmutation if you want remain my apprentice."

Roy deflated. "Y-you mean like a test?"

"Ah," said Hawkeye. "Yes. That's exactly right. This is a test."

* * *

"What am I going to _do,_ Riza?"

Riza blew a loud sigh over the pot of stew for that night's dinner and lifted a hand to rub at her ears. "A little louder, Mister Mustang, my grandfather can't hear you over in East City," she snapped. She cringed a little as soon as the sentence left her mouth – she hoped it didn't sound as harsh to him as it did to her.

Roy was sitting at the counter looking all sorts of distressed with a monstrosity of a textbook open in front of him and a hand raking nervously through his hair. He scowled at her. "You're not the least worried about my fate?" he asked, his voice squeaking in places.

Riza grimaced. He must have been terrified. "Of course not," she said confidently. "Dad won't kick you out because you won't screw up. You'll do brilliantly."

"What, in _all hell_, makes you think I will do 'brilliantly'?"

"I have utmost confidence in you."

"That doesn't answer my question, Riza."

Riza blew another sigh, softer this time, and turned to face him, offering a small, encouraging smile. "Because you're clever, Mister Mustang," she told him lightly. "Because dad wouldn't have taken you on in the first place if you weren't and because I expect nothing less. One day, you're going to be an amazing alchemist. You'll see."

Roy blinked at her. "You really think that much of me?" he asked her, looking mildly stunned.

Riza shrugged and turned back to the stove. "Give yourself a little credit," she says casually, "it's not like you're terrible." And then she smirked and added "And _someone's_ gotta take me to Central, so you can't really get kicked out now."

Despite himself, Roy chuckled at her. "So that's the only reason you want me around," he joked.

"You'll be okay," said Riza, turning away from him and reaching for a bowl in the cupboard beside the pantry. "I'm sure of it."

* * *

The next morning, Roy woke to a surprised shriek that sounded like it came form the kitchen, followed by the sound of something shattering, and then a yelp and a thud that sounded like it hurt a lot. It also sounded like Riza had been caught off guard by something, and that was an occasion so rare that Roy jolted upwards and fell out of bed in an attempt to collect himself enough and see to the problem.

Grumbling, he stumbled out of his room and made his way downstairs, trying not to stumble into the banister or trip over his feet all together.

"Riza?"

This was how he found her that morning: the pantry door was open, something had shattered on the tiles, and Riza was seated half way into the pantry clutching her head in one hand and her leg in the other, pain etched into her features as something liquid and red began to drip along her foot.

"Riza, is that _blood_?" he gasped jumping down the last three steps. "What happened? You okay?"

She turned, glaring at the shelf behind her and rubbing the back of her head as she tried to pull herself up using the pantry doors.

"Don't move!" snapped Roy, picking his way around the ceramic shards that littered the kitchen floor. "Hang on – just let me – "

"It's fine," she muttered, attempting to stand. "I'm oka – "

She wobbled dangerously on the spot and Roy counted himself lucky that he'd managed to seize her elbow in time before she fell over and hit her head on the shelf again. Roy rolled his eyes at her and moved to hoist her up around the middle to carry her over the mess.

"Hey – put me – "

"Right," he said, "You're fine – you're only bleeding all over the kitchen floor." Depositing her on a counter stool and leaning over to examine her bloodied foot, he frowned up at her. "What happened?"

Riza scowled at him and looked furiously in the other direction. "There was a mouse," she mumbled.

Roy raised an eyebrow at her. "You're afraid of mice?"

"_No_," she snapped. "It just surprised me. It was in my mug and I dropped it and now..." Her features softened as she cast a glance around the kitchen floor.

Roy realised it much too late – the shattered remnants that lay over the tiles were all that remained of Riza's mug.


	41. Killing Time: The Test

**Hot Chocolate**

**XLI**

"You've really done a number on your foot," Roy told her as he mopped up the blood that had started to drip from her heel. The kitchen was still a mess but he figured he should probably clean Riza up as best he could before he attended to the mess on the kitchen floor.

She grimaced at him and said nothing.

Roy studied her as he reached for the bandages that sat on the kitchen counter. "You okay?" he asked at last, winding the bandage around her foot.

Riza gave a huff. "It's only a little cut – I'll be fine."

"'_Little'_," he snorted, shaking his head. "Right." He paused for a moment and sat back to examine his handiwork. He pursed his lips and looked at her. "I meant _you_."

Riza shrugged. "It was only a mug, Mister Mustang."

Roy raised an eyebrow at her. She didn't _really_ think she could dismiss the matter like _that_, did she? After living in her house for almost a year, she didn't _really _believe he would be fooled by that, right? In truth, she really, actually owned very few possessions, and that mug was one of those few things. "Riza," he reprimanded.

The girl glowered at him. "It's broken now anyway," she snapped. "There's not much that can be done, and in the end it's just a – a trivial, stupid, ceramic..." she sputtered a little and looked away.

Roy waited.

Finally, she sighed. "I really liked that mug," she murmured at last.

Roy gave her a sad smile. "Yeah," he muttered, ruffling her hair. "I know." He stood and helped her down from the counter stool. "Come on. You're going to spend the morning sitting on the couch and not moving, okay?"

"But – "

He gave her a look. "It's for the better of your foot. Look at you _now_ – you can barely walk on that leg."

"But – "

"_Riza_."

She glared at him. "_Alright_. Fine."

He couldn't help it. He smirked at her. "Atta girl."

* * *

The idea came to him just as he was about to dispose of the remains of Riza's mug.

He'd never had to fix anything before. The most Sensei had made him do was make little ornaments the size of his thumb that were still attached to the surface he transmuted them from.

But he'd never had to _fix_ something before.

He considered the idea – that meant he'd have to have every single piece. He'd have to know how all the pieces fit together, and he'd have to research the chemical make up of ceramics and exactly how to keep it all together.

The hand that had the dustpan and the pieces of the broken mug stilled in the air.

_Hm_, he thought. _That could work_.

* * *

Three days later, Roy stood at his Sensei's desk and dumped the shards of Riza's mug on the note-strewn wood.

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow at him. "What's this?"

"The materials for my test," said Roy. He tried to ignore the way his stomach was squirming. Of _course_ this would work. At least – he hoped it would. Like, _really_ hoped it would – he'd spent an obscene amount of time studying and practising on a dinner plate he'd swiped from under Riza's nose while she was chopping carrots for dinner the other day. The real question though was this: would it be _good enough_?

Hawkeye was a hard man to please and he kind of needed to pass.

"What are you going to do?" his Sensei asked?

Roy shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "Well," he began, "you haven't taught me how to fix things yet so I spent the entire three day leave you gave me trying to figure out how to do it on my own. You've never made me work with ceramic materials either so..."

Hawkeye studied him under an expressionless gaze that more than unnerved him. Finally, his teacher cleared his throat and produced a piece of chalk from the pocket of his robe.

"Is this Riza's mug?" he asked gruffly.

Roy drew a nervous breath and took the chalk from his master. "Yeah," he answered shortly, drawing the circle onto the table.

Hawkeye scoffed, and Roy could have sworn he saw his master's lips twitch. "Show me what you can do then."

Roy bit his lip. He took another breath and touched the edges of the circle. Then he watched as ceramic in the centre began to glow.

* * *

Riza was washing the saucepan when she heard the muffled "_YES!"_ sound from her father's study.

She paused in mid-scrub, and watched as Roy (who was almost _skipping _in glee) bolted down the hall.

"You passed then?" she asked him.

He nodded, grinning at her, and stepped up to the sink. "Look what else," he beamed. And he pulled his hands from his behind his back.

Riza looked. Her mug sat unbroken and unmarked in Roy's outstretched hands.

* * *

**Holy crap, you guys, 100+ people favourite-d this? THANK YOU SO MUCH. I LOVE YOU GUYS.**


	42. Tickets

**Hot Chocolate**

**XLII**

"I'm going to be... running some tests," said Hawkeye-Sensei one day, as he leafed through a pile of manuscripts he'd pulled from the bookshelf. "We'll review what you've learnt this past year, and when you return in April, I trust you will be able to conduct your own research. I've taught you enough for that."

Roy stared at the older man and tilted his head curiously to the side. "Does... that mean you're not going to teach me anymore?"

Hawkeye grunted. "An alchemist is one who searches for knowledge. If you intend to be one, you should start searching yourself. I'm not going to hand it to you."

"I'm not sure I understand, Sensei," said Roy nervously. He was expected to return in April but, if anything, this sounded suspiciously like he was being kicked out.

Hawkeye rolled his eyes at him and straightened up. Leaving the manuscripts on his desk, he limped forward and rested a hand on Roy's shoulder. "My research," he told him, jerking his head at the study. "You have access to all of it. As you have the basics now, I trust you'll be able to learn more by looking for more information by yourself. That is what defines an alchemist, after all."

Roy frowned up at him. "So... wait..."

"You're making me wonder if you really do have the brains, Roy."

Roy scowled. "You're opening your study up to me? Your life's work?"

Hawkeye scoffed. "My life's work is not in here," he told Roy cryptically as he stepped out of the study, "but if I am to bequeath it to you, I need to see that you can function as a scientist and not just a student."

"So... what will you be doing now?"

The master stopped and didn't turn. "Tests, as I said," he answered after a pause. "I need to collect some materials. Is Riza awake?"

Roy raised an eyebrow at his teacher. "She's making breakfast."

"Ah," said Hawkeye. It was odd – Roy could swear he almost looked a little guilty and sort of disappointed. "I'll see you here this afternoon then."

"Right..." said Roy. "See you."

* * *

"I'm going out for a bit."

Riza looked up. "Dad!" she greeted, nearly dropping the kettle as she took it from the fire. "Do you – do you want some toast or something before you leave?"

Berthold looked at his daughter curiously. A pause. "Why not?" he grumbled finally.

Riza blinked at him and stared for a moment. "Er..." she began. And then her brain made itself apparent to her again and she reached for the stack of toast she'd left on the counter and busied herself with it and the marmalade. "Where are you going...?" she asked awkwardly.

"Nowhere of consequence," her father said as she handed him the toast. "I need to collect some things."

"I could always get it for you," offered Riza awkwardly.

He waved a hand at her. "Don't worry about it," said Hawkeye. He sounded almost gentle, and Riza couldn't help but wonder if her dad was feeling okay. True, he had been kinder and more lenient lately, but this was a little out of character – even for his recently changed mood.

"You sure?" she asked. "Mister Mustang and I were going into town anyway to book tickets for Central later..."

"It's fine," said Hawkeye, devouring the last of his toast. "I'll see you later, my dear," he bid her as he turned away. "Keep Roy out of trouble."

Riza stared after him. "Sure thing," she answered. "Bye dad."

* * *

Two hours later, as they stepped along the gravel path that lead into town, Roy caught Riza looking rather thoughtful. It wasn't a good kind of thoughtful either – the frown that wrinkled her brow looked distinctly familiar, and Roy had a feeling it wouldn't lead to anything good.

"You okay?" he asked her finally as they turned into the street.

Riza glanced up at him and shrugged a little. "Dad's... feeling okay, right?" she asked him.

Roy blinked. "Well... yeah," he answered. "I don't think I've noticed him doing anything funny or with any signs of illness and what not..."

"No," said Riza. "I mean – it's just that he's not acting like himself, you know?"

"What, because he's been – you know, less scary?"

She gave him a look. Roy swallowed nervously. "I mean... maybe... he just wants to be nicer? You know how dads can be..."

Riza sighed. "I dunno, he just seems..." she pursed her lips and looked away. "It's just weird is all."

Roy shrugged and lay his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure he's okay," he told her firmly. "Meanwhile we have tickets to get! You're going to Central with me in two days – at least act like you're a little more excited."

The girl scoffed a little. "I'm excited," she reassured him. "I'm just being mature about it."

"You're _twelve_," whined Roy. "I swear, Riza, when I was twelve, I was way more enthusiastic about trips like this."

Riza sniggered. "All things considered, Mister Mustang, you still act like a twelve year old," she deadpanned. "I turn thirteen in a month anyway, so your point hardly stands."

Roy scowled. "Humour me," he pouted. "I'm taking you to Central."

She smiled at him. "Yeah," she whispered. "We're going to Central."

* * *

**Nearly there, you guys! Thanks for sticking with me this far!**


	43. A Call

**For adelaidemiller, reviewer number 400.

* * *

**

**XLIII**

It was kind of really sad that it had taken Roy almost a year to realise that the Hawkeye household had a telephone. He'd never seen anyone use it, and no one had ever called – but there was no denying that it was _right there_ on the hall table and he had never taken the time to even realise it was there.

It started like this: two days before their trip to Central, as Roy was having breakfast with Riza at the kitchen counter, spoons of porridge halfway to their mouths, it began to ring.

Roy paused. "You guys have a telephone?"

Riza gave him a look and hopped off her counter stool. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Uh..." Roy began dumbly. Well _duh_, taunted his brain, everyone had a telephone, and different as they were, the Hawkeyes were still part of 'everyone'. "Has it... _really_ been there all this time?"

Raising an eyebrow at him, Riza nodded and lifted the receiver to her ear. "Hello?"

In the quiet of the morning, Roy nearly spat out his porridge when he heard what sounded suspiciously like his foster mother's voice sound faintly from the phone.

"_You must be the Riza I've been hearing so much about."_

"Pardon me?" asked Riza politely. She was frowning at nothing in particular, and Roy stumbled off his counter stool and stepped towards her. "May I ask whose calling?"

There was a light chuckle from the other end, and hands in his pockets, Roy leaned over in pitiful attempt to be casual and pressed his ear to the other side of the receiver. Riza shot him a childish glare.

"_You can call me Chris_," came the voice, "_Roy-Boy's foster mother. He's been taking good care of you, I trust?_"

Riza felt her eyes widen, and she jerked away from Roy as she felt him make a grab for the receiver. "Hey - !" she snapped, before she could stop herself. "That's rude!"

"I don't trust my mother not to tell you – " he cut himself off and made to grab her waist. "Just – _Riza_ – give it – "

Riza snorted and ducked under him. "Excuse me, Ms. Mustang," she chortled, dodging another swipe and stepping backwards away from Roy. "_Roy-Boy_'s being a little bit immature." She raised an amused eyebrow at him, daring him without speaking to try again.

Roy fumed and folded his arms across his chest. Even from here, he could hear his foster mother chuckling at him from the other line. "_How's your dad, Riza?_"

The girl blinked. "You know my dad?"

"_Through a friend_," explained Chris shortly. "_Is Roy being a good student for him?"_

Riza snorted. "He's as lazy as they come, but he's doing good," she answered, smirking at him. Roy scowled at her.

"_I hear you'll be visiting too when Roy comes back._"

Riza made a noise of assent. "We booked our tickets yesterday," she said lightly. "I'm looking forward to it." She glanced at Roy and twiddled the telephone cord between her thumb and forefinger. "I think Mr. Mustang's calmed down a little now, I'll hand the phone over to him."

"_Thank you, Riza,_" said Chris, _"I look forward to finally meeting the girl Roy won't shut up about."_

Snorting in a feeble attempt to cover the blush rising to her cheeks, she handed the receiver to Roy. "Here you go, _Roy-Boy_," she sniggered.

Roy scowled a second time and snatched the receiver vehemently out of Riza's hands. "_Mom," _he greeted through gritted teeth. He glared daggers at Riza, who smirked at him and shrugged as she made her way back to her porridge on the counter.

* * *

"What was that all about?" she asked as he hung up and came to join her at the counter again.

Roy glowered at the remains of his porridge. Obviously the surprise call and revelation of his mother's pet name for him didn't sit well with him. He muttered an answer that sounded something vaguely like "Wanted to double check when we'd arrive."

Riza rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, cheer up," she said, prodding him a little. "Aren't you glad you got to hear from your mom?"

The boy grimaced. "She didn't tell you anything... _humiliating_, did she?"

Riza stared at him. "_Really?_" she asked, eyeing him oddly. "_That's_ what got you so worked up? Mr. Mustang – how're you going to cope once I meet her in person?"

Roy grumbled something indiscernible under his breath and shovelled a spoonful of cold porridge into his mouth.

There was a pause. Then, finally, Riza sniggered into the last of her porridge.

"What kind of nickname is _Roy-Boy_ anyway?"

Roy glared at her. "Shut up."

* * *

**Because Chris needed to make her debut in this fic sooner rather than later. **

**This is so late and I have no excuse. I'M SORRY but we're nearly there! I want to end this by chapter 50 so here's hoping I don't slack off!**


	44. Mothers

**Hot Chocolate**

**XLIV**

When she had trouble trying to sleep that night, Riza found herself wandering up and down the stairs for no real reason to ease the unsettling of her stomach. She didn't like to admit it, but at this point in time, it was becoming difficult to sit still – what with the prospect of going to Central – of escaping from the doom and gloom of her father's house _for the first time ever_ – she couldn't really hold it against herself but still. She was supposed to show a little more self control than, say, Mr. Mustang who found it appropriate to act like a hyperactive five year old whenever the excitement hit.

Mr. Mustang, however, wasn't the one pacing the dark hallway at unholy hours of the morning.

Riza bit her lip and shoved her hands into the pockets of her robe. Inwardly, she kind of wished her father still kept Mr. Mustang up for study because then, at least, he'd be awake and she'd have someone to keep her company whenever he finished up – or rather, someone else awake so she could find it in herself to keep still.

Part of her scoffed. Who was she kidding? She just wanted the company. She'd grown accustomed to Roy's presence whenever she needed him to be there because he always was. No matter how much work her father gave him, he did it wherever she was. She'd never really appreciated how lonely the Hawkeye estate had been when it was just her, and when she _had _realised it, he'd already gone to the point where he'd promised she'd never have to be like that again.

"Riza?"

Riza paused in mid-step and looked up.

Roy was peering at her from his bedroom door, hair tousled and eyes drooping, but with a small frown on his face. "What are you doing?" he asked her sleepily.

"I... couldn't sleep," answered Riza quietly. "I'm sorry I woke you."

Roy grumbled. "S'all right. Why can't you sleep?"

Riza gave him a nonchalant shrug. "No reason really. I guess... I'm just excited."

Despite himself, Roy cracked a smirk and jerked his head to invite her into his room. "You're twelve after all," he chortled tiredly. "Come on. If I'm gonna keep you company, I'm going to do it comfortably."

"You don't need to – "

"Come _on_," said Roy, opening the door wider for her. "I'm not about to let you spend the rest of the night wandering up and down the stairs."

* * *

Roy settled sleepily under his blankets again, Riza stood awkwardly at the doorway trying to find out where exactly she was supposed to situate herself in the pigsty that was his room.

"You haven't started packing, Mr. Mustang," she said pointedly, stepping over a pile of dirty clothes. "Gross..."

Roy grunted and shot her an unamused glare from over the top of the sheets. "I heard that," he grumbled. "And I don't need two days to pack, thank you."

Riza wrinkled her nose at the state of the bedroom and pulled at his desk chair. "Don't you think you ought to clean up a little before we leave?"

The lump of blankets shifted defiantly. "I will," came the muffled reply. Riza could hear him yawning widely. "Eventually."

Riza rolled her eyes at him, seating herself at his bedside and leaning her arms against the back of his chair. "You don't need to stay up," she mumbled shyly.

"I know I don't," said Roy, shifting again to face her, drowsy but far from weary. "Anyway, now that you've heard from my mother, I expect to hear about yours."

Riza raised an eyebrow at him. "At this time of night?"

"We've got nothing else to do," answered Roy, yawning again but pulling his arms free from the sheets. "Plus there's the matter of equivalent exchange and all."

"I'm not an alchemist, Mr. Mustang," said Riza, attempting to stifle a yawn. "That doesn't apply to me."

Roy chuckled. "Well it should. Go on. Tell me about your mom."

The girl remained silent at first, but, finally, she blew a sigh and moved to rest her chin on her arms. "There's not much to tell, to be honest," she said at last, staring blankly at the window across the room. "She died when I was really young – I don't remember her all that well. I remember she used to tell me stories about Grandpa Grumman before I went to sleep, but that's about it."

Riza paused, and she could almost feel Roy's gaze on her, waiting for her to continue. She huffed, trying to ignore how heavy her eyelids had become. "Dad was nicer back then, I remember that," she murmured. "Less obsessed, you know?"

Roy hummed thoughtfully. "He says you look like her, you know," he muttered. "Your dad, I mean. He showed me a picture once and I have to admit, you really do." He stifled another yawn. "She was really pretty," he added, shooting her a cheeky glance.

Riza scoffed tiredly, suddenly very grateful that it was dark and he couldn't see the colour rising to her cheeks. "Flattery's not going to get me to help you clean your room, Mr. Mustang."

Roy chortled. "I was actually trying to get you to pack for me," he joked. "I'm just kidding. I'll clean up before we leave, I promise." He studied her through the dark. "How're you feeling?"

"Better," Riza shrugged, yawning a little and shutting her eyes.

"Ha, you're sleepy," snorted Roy.

Riza grumbled. "I'm only resting my eyes," she mumbled.

"Sure you are," smirked Roy, climbing out of bed and prodding at her shoulder. "I think it's time you went to sleep."

There was no answer, and Roy couldn't help but laugh lightly as he moved to carry her to bed.

* * *

**Guys. University is hard. It is therefore a legitimate excuse as to why this is late.**


	45. Questions

**Hot Chocolate**

**XLV**

Riza woke the next morning feeling oddly disoriented and quite unable to remember how she'd fallen asleep in the first place. Grumbling, she stumbled out of bed and into the hall to find a suitcase and a pile of unfolded clothes blocking the top of the stairs. She blinked.

"Mr. Mustang?" she ventured.

The scuffling in his room paused and the door opened, a dark pair of eyes peering sleepily at her through the gap in the door. "Good morning," he yawned.

She stared at him. "What are you _doing_?"

"Cleaning," he said simply. "I promised I'd get around to it, remember? That and I'm running out of time to do it."

There was a pause. "Is there any particular reason your suitcase is out here being a hazard to everyone that walks past?"

Roy scowled at her. "For your information, I'm packing too. And there's only the two of us up here - it's not _that_ much of a hazard."

Riza eyed the pile of clothing dubiously. "Would you like some help?" she asked after a moment's hesitation.

Features twisting defiantly, Roy shook his head. He'd never been a huge fan of packing or cleaning – his foster mother had been sure to remind him of how much he hated the job just before the trip to the Hawkeye house. "No."

The little girl raised an eyebrow at him.

Roy scowled again. "Yes."

Rolling her eyes, Riza kicked at the suitcase and the pile of clothes to move it away from the stairs. "I'll be back with breakfast and hot chocolate," she said resignedly. "Try not to make it too much of a danger zone up here."

* * *

Half an hour later, Riza climbed back upstairs with a tray of toast, eggs and hot chocolate balanced expertly in one hand while she held the other out to keep herself from tripping over the assortment of items Roy had left in the hall in his sad attempt to clean his room. "So your version of cleaning is messing everything else up, huh?" she told him, mildly amused. She stared at the mess of clothing and alchemy textbooks strewn over the floor. "I don't even think it's safe to eat in here." She jerked her head at him. "I suppose we'll have to eat in my room."

Roy shook his head. "It'll be fine – "

"Really?" She gave his room a sceptical once over and eyed the pile of clothes on his desk.

"...Maybe not..." managed Roy. He sighed and got to his feet to follow her out of the room. "Thanks Riza," he muttered quietly.

She gave him an awkward sort of shrug. "I just don't understand how one person can make that much of a mess."

"I'm just... naturally messy..." he said lamely. He watched as she put the tray of breakfast down on her own desk and took a seat on her bed.

There was a pause. "I'm glad you like me now," he mused awkwardly. "You used to be really scary, remember?"

She giggled. "You tried so hard."

"And in the end, you just needed someone to make you laugh." Roy sighed. He picked at a piece of toast. Riza, meanwhile, was turning kind of red, and, being the gentleman that he was, he kept silent and decided not to call her out on it.

She coughed. "Can... can I ask you something?"

Roy blinked. "Of course you can."

"All... all those girls in town..." Riza began quietly. Her face was burning and Roy was acutely aware of how she refused to look him in the eye. "They all like you – how come you don't like any of them?"

Chuckling into his mug, Roy took a long draught of hot chocolate before he answered her. "Because they're all really _dumb_," he told her. "Besides. Your dad keeps me pretty busy – I don't have time for the silly girls in town."

"Oh." Riza stared into the murky depths of her mug, but it did nothing to remove the heat from her face. Roy could almost feel it from his seat on her bed. "You don't have a girlfriend back home or something?"

Roy choked on his hot chocolate, quite unable to process that she was actually asking him this question. He shook his head. "No," he managed. "I mean – I did. I've had a couple – but they weren't really my type."

"Oh," she mumbled again.

Another pause. This was becoming a theme in this morning's conversation. Roy sighed and watched her swing her legs from the desk chair. "Tomorrow afternoon, huh?" he mused finally.

Riza sighed, the mug of hot chocolate pausing on its way to her lips. "It's kind of surreal," she murmured. "I mean, I love my dad and everything but... I just never thought I'd ever be able to get anywhere with him around. I... haven't even considered what'll happen when I finish up with school. I always figured I'd be stuck here looking after him."

"I don't think he'd ever want that, Riza," said Roy quietly. "He... just doesn't really know how to go about being a dad, I think."

"No. No – I don't blame him or anything. I just... I don't know, it always felt like this place was like a trap... that is..." she looked away, flushing. "Until you came..." she mumbled.

Roy chuckled and ruffled her hair. "Thanks Riza. I – "

There was a cough from the bedroom doorway and the two teenagers looked up to find Hawkeye-Sensei watching them from the hall. "Are those your things lying around my hallway, Roy?"

"Uh..."

The old man rolled his eyes. "See to it that you clean it up," he grumbled. And he shook his head and limped back down the hall.

Roy shook his own head and snorted lightly. "I think he's lightening up."

* * *

**Oh my God, it's so late and I am so sorry and I have no excuse. We're so close to the end too and I'm just inching it a long... one chapter at a time...**

**Thanks for putting up with me this far, guys, only a few more to go!  
**


	46. Dinner

**Hot Chocolate**

**XLVI**

Dinner that night was as normal as it had ever been – delicious as always (Riza was far too modest to be legal, noted Roy), and though quiet, particularly comfortable - until it wasn't, and Hawkeye-Sensei coughed and made his appearance in the hall way apparent.

"Dad!" Riza blinked at him and stood at once to fetch the tray of food she'd left on the counter for him. "I'm sorry – I was going to bring you your dinner in a – "

The master held up his hand. "Can I join you?" he asked awkwardly.

Both the daughter and the student stared at him, quite unable to process the question. Lightening up, yes, Roy had thought – and while seeing Hawkeye-Sensei out of his study was one thing, asking to join them for dinner was something else entirely. He looked on, watching Riza's reaction carefully and curious as to how this would play out.

Hawkeye coughed again. "It's fine if you'd rather I –"

"No," interrupted Riza. "I mean – of course – we'd love to have you join us – it's just – this a little... unexpected." She shook herself and motioned for him to take a seat at the little table while she went to retrieve his tray.

Hawkeye looked a little out of place and shot a glance at Roy. "Is it...?"

Roy nodded. "I'll be honest, Sensei, I can't say either of us saw this coming – but she means it – she's been wanting you to join us for a while."

The old master hummed thoughtfully. Limping towards the table, he took a seat and waited for his daughter to return.

Roy shifted a little, the awkward pause that had rooted itself between them growing ever longer as Riza fixed up her father's dinner. "Can – can I ask why the sudden change, Sensei?" he asked after a moment.

"You'll both be leaving tomorrow," answered Hawkeye. "Of course you'll be coming back but I felt it appropriate." He paused.

Roy waited. He seemed on the verge of saying something else but looked as if he didn't quite know how to say it properly.

Finally he sighed. "I haven't had dinner with my daughter in a very long time, Roy," he muttered quietly. "I have no one to blame but myself. I'm actually surprised she hasn't begun to hate me after all these years."

Roy shook his head. "She doesn't have it in her to hate anyone – least of all you. You're her dad."

"I've not been a very good one, at that," snorted Hawkeye. "But I think I might have a way to make it up to her."

Roy chuckled a little. "Having dinner with the both of us is definitely a start."

* * *

"So..." began Riza a little uncomfortably when she returned with her father's food.

"So you'll both be going to Central tomorrow." Berthold cut across her in an attempt to rescue her from the awkward that had ensued as a result of his presence. "Will you be all right? Travelling that far on your own, I mean."

"Of course we'll be all right," said Roy confidently, flashing Riza a winning smile. "She's got me."

Riza nodded and resumed her own seat. "Mister Mustang seems pretty harmless – I doubt he'll be very much trouble."

Roy scowled at her. "You are actually terrible."

"Just keeping your ego in check." Riza shrugged and brought a spoonful of soup to her lips.

The pause returned.

And then Berthold coughed again. "It'll be strange without the both of you here," he said. "Be careful, won't you? Central's a big city."

Riza nodded a second time. "We will." She glanced at him. "Thank you. For worrying."

Berthold scoffed and dug into his own dinner. "I worry about you a lot, my dear. You are my daughter, you know."

The pause returned for a third time, and sitting between the father and daughter, Roy felt, was a very inconvenient place right now – particularly because it felt like they needed a moment. The worst part was, he realised moments later, that he couldn't just leave either – things were uncomfortable enough already.

"This is delicious," said Berthold finally, gesturing at the dinner Riza had cooked for the night. "I've always enjoyed your mushroom soup."

For the first time since her father had come down that night, and to Roy's great relief, Riza chuckled and offered her dad a little smile. "Thanks dad."

Roy scoffed into his own soup but said nothing.

Lightening up, indeed.

* * *

**Some notes: This is probably terrible and rushed and out of character (as is the rest of this fic by now, why don't you people hate me?) - but Javien Deluke, you asked so nicely – how could I resist? If I fail my lab exam in two weeks, it's on you.**

**(But not really – this is always much more fun than studying).**

**Final stretch, you guys! Just a few more to go! I couldn't have gotten this far without you! **


	47. The Departure

**XLVII**

It was a long night.

All the nerves and excitement that bubbled in Riza's stomach kept her up far later than she wanted and even when she'd fallen asleep, it was restless and uncomfortable. When, finally, the sun peered over the horizon, she gave up altogether and decided she'd just do her sleep to take a nap on the way.

Sighing, she shuffled out of bed and got dressed. Then, careful not to make too much noise, she lugged her suitcase out of her room and dragged it quietly downstairs. Their train would be leaving at eleven that morning so she and Roy would have to be at the station by ten-thirty at the latest.

It was only six.

Riza scowled to herself. This would be the longest four and a half hours of her life.

* * *

It was eight-thirty when Roy finally stumbled his way downstairs, and Riza couldn't help but glare at him as he yawned and helped himself to the toast and jam.

"How long have you been up?" he asked, blinking at her tiredly.

Riza scrunched her nose. "Long enough."

"All night, then." Roy snorted to himself and ignored the look she gave him. "Is your dad walking to the station with us?"

She shook her head. "He'll probably be up in an hour or so, so we can say good bye then." She slid his mug across the counter and sipped at her own.

Roy accepted his hot chocolate gratefully, but he shot her a thoughtful glance over the rim of his mug as he drank. She'd come a long way since he'd first arrived. She used to bully him – too used to apprentices coming and going to get attached – almost envious of the fact that her father spent more time with his students than with her. How long had she had those walls up before he'd arrived? How long had she been the guarded little girl who had no one but an old cat to keep her company in this rambling old house?

"What?" Riza was giving him that look again, and he shrugged and smiled at her.

"Nothing," he said, setting his mug down. "Just remembering the old days when you didn't like me."

"Hmph."

* * *

At ten o'clock, Berthold finally appeared to wish them good bye.

Roy stood a little way back so Riza could have some privacy with her father, but even from here, Roy could tell that it was still a little awkward. It didn't take a genius to know how much better things were between them now, but it had probably been so long since father and daughter had so much as hugged each other that it almost felt like they'd forgotten how.

"You'll take good care of her while you're away," Berthold said to him as he and Riza came back out into the hall.

"Of course," said Roy, grinning reassuringly. "We'll only be gone for a bout a month. Chances are she'll take better care of me."

Berthold snorted and clapped his apprentice's shoulder. "See you in a month."

"Right." He glanced at Riza. "Ready?"

She nodded and smiled at him, and then her father. "As I'll ever be. See you soon, dad."

Berthold patted her shoulder, and cracked a tiny smile. "Take care, darling."

* * *

"Did you _see _that?" Roy was incredulous. "Your dad actually smiled!"

Riza nodded, looking dazed. "I almost can't believe it," she murmured. "It's been so long... I haven't seen him smile since mom died."

"Means things are getting better, right?" he said, grinning.

She nodded again. "Yeah..."

* * *

They got as far as halfway down the dirt road to town before Riza paused again in midstep. "Oh, no," she mumbled.

"What's the matter?"

"It's – I forgot something." She glanced at him and bit her lip. "It was supposed to be for your mom as a thank you for letting me stay with you guys."

Roy chuckled and patted her shoulder. "You didn't need to do that," he said, grinning. Typical Riza – never mind that he'd been staying with them all year long and the most he'd managed to get her was a pair of earrings. She could be so sweet when she wanted to be. "Come on, let's go and get it. We've got time."

Riza considered it, but she shook her head. "It's okay – I'll go and get it myself. You go ahead – I'll meet you at the station."

"You sure?" he asked her.

She nodded. "It'll be faster on my own. I won't be long."

"Okay, well – " Roy took her suitcase from her. "Let me take this down for you, and I'll meet you on our platform, all right?"

"Right." She smiled gratefully at him and turned to jog back up the road.

* * *

Roy got to the station with both his and Riza's luggage in his arms at about ten-fifteen. Riza had plenty of time, so he took a seat on the nearest bench and set their suitcases on the floor beside him. She wouldn't be long, he told himself, and it wasn't like the station was quite a way from her house. She'd be all right. There was no reason to be worried.

Right?

Roy scrunched his nose and shook himself. He was being stupid. Of course she'd be all right. Of course she'd be back in time.

So why was his gut clenching as if something was about to go terribly wrong?

* * *

Ten fifty.

Roy bit his lip. Riza still wasn't back yet. The train would be leaving in ten minutes – where was she? If it took him fifteen minutes to get here from her house carrying two sets of suitcases, surely it shouldn't take this long for her to run there and back with nothing?

Ten fifty-five...

"Cutting it a bit close, Riza," he muttered to himself, pacing the platform a little. He clenched his fists in his pockets willing himself to calm down. It wasn't so much the train he was worried about – if they missed this one, it wasn't like they couldn't catch the next one but –

But what if something had happened?

Ten fifty-seven...

"Last call for Central Station!"

Roy blew a worried sigh. "Come on, Riza, where are you...?"

Someone tapped his shoulder, and he spun, relieved and thinking it was Riza - only it wasn't.

"Roy Mustang, right?"

Roy frowned. It was the old woman from the bookshop – the one who'd suggested Riza's Christmas present from a little while back. She looked like she'd just run here from the bookshop, and there was a hint of panic in her eyes. He felt his face tighten.

"Yeah, that's me – what is it? What's wrong? Is Riza all right?"

The old woman nodded. "She's fine – she's the one who called me but... something's happened..."

Eleven o'clock.

The train whistle was blowing, but Roy couldn't even hear it. His gut clenched again.

Something had gone very, _very_ wrong.

* * *

**I'm sorry it's so late, but there's seriously only three chapters left and being a second year uni student is terrible so bear with me. Thanks for sticking with me this far, guys!**


	48. Father and Daughter

**XLVIII**

Questions exploded like fireworks in Roy's mind - _Where's Riza? What's going on? Are you sure she's okay?_ – and, for a moment, it felt like he'd forgotten how to speak. "I – what's happened?" he managed at last, voice strangled by the panic welling in his chest.

"You'd better go," the woman said. "Leave your things with me. I'll take them back to the bookshop until you're both ready. Riza – Riza needs you."

"You're sure she's all right?" Roy demanded.

She nodded. "Yes, yes, she's fine. It's her father..."

Roy clenched his teeth and nodded. Riza was all right, thank goodness, but her father being not all right wasn't calming in the least. Intimidated as he was by Berthold, he was still his master and the thought of something happening to him was almost unthinkable. "Thank you," he said finally. "I'll call the bookshop to keep you posted."

* * *

The journey back felt painfully slow. Roy could have sworn he'd sprinted the whole way and if he were honest, he couldn't remember half of it – only that it felt like hours before he saw the Hawkeye estate in the distance, and hours more before he managed to get to their front door.

"Riza!" he called, panting as he pounded on the knocker. "Riza, what happened?"

There was a little bit of commotion inside before the door opened to reveal a middle aged man Roy had never seen before.

"Who are you?" he blurted.

The man raised an eyebrow. "I remember you," he said after a moment. "You were the boy with the fever earlier this year, weren't you?" He scoffed a little. "My name is Zachary Mallet – I'm the town doctor. Inside, quick, Riza's waiting for you."

Roy stared at him. "I – is everything okay? What happened to Master Hawkeye?"

Doctor Mallet sighed. "Not as well as they could be." He ushered Roy inside and shut the door behind him. "Riza," he called, peering into the living room. "Mister Mustang's here. Come into the hall for a moment, I must speak to you both."

There was some shuffling in the other room, and after a moment, Riza peered into the hallway, eyes red and puffy. She made an odd little noise in her throat, and without a word, she threw herself at Roy and clung to him as if her life depended on it.

"Hey, hey," he murmured, rubbing her back. "What happened? Is your dad okay?"

"For now," said Mallet. "I suspect he didn't tell either of you from what I can see here. Mr. Hawkeye came to see me last year before your arrival," he said to Roy. "He has – and has had for some time now – a debilitating lung disease called Emphysema. Usually, it's a result of heavy smoking, but sometimes, one can have a genetic predisposition to it. It progressed much slower than I expected, but there was no avoiding this point. He is nearing the end stage. There's not much more I can do."

For a moment, Riza's grip around his torso tightened, and she whimpered. Roy swallowed and squeezed her shoulder. "How – how much longer has he got?" he asked shakily.

Sighing again, Mallet pocketed his hands. "It's hard to say," he said. "But I wouldn't say much longer than five years. At most." He paused, and from the living room, Berthold coughed weakly.

"Riza?"

Mallet jerked his head. "He's calling for you, dear, you should see him."

Roy felt Riza swallow, and she peered at him, eyes pleading for him to go with her. He nodded. Of course he would. How could he do anything else?

* * *

"So you're here too," muttered Berthold as Roy followed Riza into the living room. "Aren't you supposed to be on a train?"

Roy shook his head. "I couldn't leave. Not without knowing what was going on."

Berthold scoffed and turned to his daughter. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," mumbled Riza sadly. "I – I just want you to be okay. I mean I know things haven't been great but – but you're my dad and – " She hicced, blinking furiously. "Please be okay."

"I'll do my best," he said tiredly. He beckoned her forward. "I'm sorry. This was ill-timed. But you're to go to Central with Roy regardless."

Riza shook her head vigorously. "No. I can't. Not with you like this."

"Riza."

"I can't!" cried Riza, probably louder than she intended. "I – Who'll take care of you? I can't leave!"

"_Riza._" Berthold hesitated, but he lifted a hand and covered hers, squeezing just a little. "You'll go to Central. Mallet has been our family physician since before your mother died. He'll check in with me from time to time." He looked away guiltily. "I'll not be the one that – that _traps_ you here when you deserve more."

It was like his last sentence was the last straw. The floodgates opened, and Riza burst into tears and sank to her knees beside him, clutching her father's hand. "I didn't mean that!" she blurted. "You don't trap me here – you don't! I'm sorry, dad, I didn't mean any of those things!"

From his place by the door, Roy backed awkwardly out of the living room and leaned back against the wall. This wasn't something he should be allowed to intrude on. This was the only moment between Riza and her father that he ever saw them really share.

"Riza," he heard Berthold say again, voice stunned but soft. "I know you didn't mean those things. I know you didn't." He sighed. "I've been a terrible father," he murmured. "But you are still my daughter, and I want you to be happy. You'll go to Central with Roy. And you'll enjoy yourself and you'll forget about me. I won't allow myself to weigh you down any longer."

There was a pause, and Roy had a sneaking suspicion that Riza was shaking her head. "I don't want to go," she mumbled. "I want to stay with you. You're my dad and I – " She choked on her words temporarily. "I love you."

Another pause, and Roy peered around the corner in time to see Berthold place a hesitant kiss against his daughter's fingers. "I love you too, Riza," he murmured at last.

From above him, Roy heard a gentle scoff and he looked up and spotted Mallet, chuckling softly to himself as he moved to shut the door. "Eavesdropping is unbecoming," he said quietly, holding a hand out to help him up. "Let's leave them to it."

Roy hesitated, but as he caught a glimpse of Riza, tucked in her father's embrace, he smiled. "Yeah," he murmured. "Let's go."

* * *

**Some notes:**

**So I'm not entirely happy with how this chapter turned out, but maybe that's just been because it's been ages since I actually last read through the previous 47 chapters. I am pleased with the fact that Berthold and Riza are finally bonding properly even though it's probably a lot out of character, but you know what, we never got a huge amount of background info to their relationship anyway and hey, I figure there's room for improvement.**

**She's 12, guys. That is my only defense.**

**I know it's been months and I'M SORRY OKAY. I have a week before my semester 2 starts so with enough encouragement, I might actually (finally) finish this.**

**I LOVE YOU GUYS FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME FOR THIS LONG.**


	49. Farewells

**Hot Chocolate**

**IL**

"Their relationship's gotten much better I see." Mallet offered Roy a grateful smile as the boy set a cup of tea on the table for him. He'd known the Hawkeyes for years, and this was, perhaps, the first time since Eliza Hawkeye had passed that Berthold wanted – and openly expressed – a want for his daughter to be near. "In spite of the situation, I'm pleased to see Berthold being a father at last."

Roy hummed thoughtfully and took a seat across from the doctor with his own mug. Tea felt more appropriate today – hot chocolate just didn't feel right – not with Riza distraught and terrified for her father. Mallet was right, though. They'd come a long way since the day he'd first met them. "All this time," he murmured. "That's all she wanted. It's... awful that it had to come to this."

Mallet sighed. "Berthold has always cared for her," he said quietly. "He's just never known how to show it. His wife's passing was a heavy cross to bear, particularly because she left him a daughter who looked just like her."

"Things are never going to be okay for them, are they?"

"I'm afraid not," the doctor answered quietly. "But Berthold is stubborn, and Riza, even more so. They'll find a way to manage."

"I hope you're right," Roy mumbled, fingers tightening briefly around his mug.

* * *

"Mister Mustang."

Riza's voice was tiny, but in the silence of the far too big house, it was impossible not to hear. Roy stood and turned to find her standing timidly in the entrance hall, cheeks still stained with tears but eyes dry and resolute. "You okay?" he asked, stepping towards her.

She nodded, fingers twisting together like she wanted to say something but was unsure how to put it. "I'm – I'm not coming," she said at last. "I'm needed here."

"Riza..."

She shook her head. "I have to stay," she said firmly. "Please understand – I'm not doing this because I think my father traps me here or because I feel obligated to – I'm staying because I want to. He's my dad. I want to be here for him."

For the first time in months, Roy had to remind himself that she was only twelve years old. He'd grown so accustomed to seeing her smile and play and laugh like a child when all of a sudden, she bore the weariness and exhaustion of a woman twice her age and it was like the Riza that had opened the door for him when he first arrived had returned – only she didn't hate him. There was determination in her eyes instead, and he understood: this was where she wanted to be. She wanted to stay with her father because for once, she felt as if she had one.

"All right," he said at last. "But listen. I want you to call me in Central every now and then if you can. I promised I'd always be here for you, and I can't do that if I'm all the way in Central. But if you need me – just call. I'll come back straight away. Okay?"

Riza hesitated, and for a split second, she was a child again. "Okay," she said after a moment, but as determined as she was, it was difficult to hide the tremor in her voice. "You should go," she managed. "You'll miss the next train."

* * *

She was right, of course. If he didn't get a move on, he'd be stuck at the station for another hour waiting for the train after that. He thanked Doctor Mallet and bade farewell to his bedridden master, and, far too soon, he and Riza were alone on the front steps.

"You're sure you'll be okay here?" he asked, forcing the lump in his throat away.

Riza nodded. "I'll be fine, Mister Mustang. Thank you."

"Promise you'll call if you need me."

Riza couldn't help but scoff a little. "I promise. I'll – " she swallowed. "I'll miss you."

Despite himself, Roy smiled. "I'll miss you too. I'll see you in a couple of months, okay?"

Riza nodded again. "Thank you for everything."

"Right." With one last sigh, Roy descended to the final step where he paused and turned to face her again. Riza raised an eyebrow at him, but stood his ground, wondering if he looked as awkward as he felt. He hesitated for a moment longer before he acted on impulse, climbing the steps again and planting a soft kiss against her forehead. "Take care of yourself, okay?" he murmured, tugging her into one last hug. "See you soon."

He felt Riza nod into his chest, and he wrenched himself away from her and hurried back onto the road, refusing to look back until the Hawkeye house was at least a hundred metres behind him.

And when he turned around at last, Riza was gone, and he figured he should be too. 

* * *

**Some notes:**

**I can't even excuse myself for not working on this for almost a year. Thank you everyone who put up with me and my ridiculous habit of not updating for months at a time (I'M SORRY) but you will be pleased to know that this is not the end! I will have an epilogue for you, hopefully **_**really**_** soon and not, like, a year from now.**

**I know a lot of people were really excited for Riza to go to Central, so I'm sorry if this seems like a little bit of a cop out. I admit, when I started this fic (haha three years ago), it was supposed to be adorable and just a bunch of baby!Royai bonding, but it turned into Berthold-Riza bonding too. Not a lot of people go into their relationship, and when they do, it's usually abusive, but I want to believe that Berthold really did try before the bed rest and the dying thing turned him into an actually terrifying man. I know that's not everyone's cup of tea and it's a little (a lot) out of character but if you read this through to the end and enjoyed it anyway, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.**

**See you all in the epilogue!**


	50. Epilogue

**Hot Chocolate**

**L**

_Two months later_

Berthold Hawkeye's home still looked as intimidating as ever, Roy decided, as he unlatched the vine covered front gate. It hadn't changed much, to be honest. The house still loomed over him as he meandered up the cracked footpath – it was very much a repeat of his first day here but perhaps, this time, it would be a much warmer welcome.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have called to let them know the exact date and time of his return. The Hawkeyes had never really been fond of surprises, but this time was different. There was a little girl here who'd waited two whole months for him – he imagined it would be a surprise at least she, if not her father, would like.

Two months felt like years. He took a breath.

_Knock, knock._

x

"Here's your tea, Dad."

Berthold gave his daughter a small smile and accepted the tray gratefully. "You're so like your mother, you know that?" he said, voice gruff but warm.

She smiled back. "You say so all the time," she answered. "How are you feeling?"

"Not so bad today." Berthold gave her a small shrug. "The tea helps." He paused as two quiet knocks sounded from down the main hall. He squeezed her hand gently. "Best go see who that is."

"Right." She squeezed back and nodded. "I'll be back in a minute."

x

Roy waited, breath catching in his throat as he heard the door unlock. In a last minute surge of panic, he smoothed his hair a little, other hand clenching tightly around his suitcase. What if he looked stupid? What if she wasn't prepared? What if she was angry because he didn't call? He should have called. He should have –

The door swung open.

"I – Mr. Mustang?"

He grinned nervously. "Hi Riza."

There was a pause.

And then Riza smiled. "It's good to see you."

Roy felt his shoulders sag with relief and he released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He grinned too, and he dropped the suitcase at his feet in favour of wrapping his arms around Riza's waist in a great, lung crushing hug.

She made an odd little noise between a squeal and a laugh and a wheeze, and Roy chuckled and loosened his arms a little.

"I missed you," he told her.

Riza giggled. "I missed you too," she said quietly. "I'm glad you're back."

"Me too."

He sighed. A warmer welcome, indeed.

* * *

**It's a crime that it took me like 3 years to finish this, but HAHA I DID IT. HEEECK YEAH I DID.**

**Thank you to everyone who made it through the whole way, and for your reviews, because I could never have done it without you all! I hope you guys enjoyed it!**


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